Shiver
by SolarLunar
Summary: Set at the end of Pyramid and between seasons 8 and 9. After dealing with Cobb, everyone thought the worst was over. However, for Jimmy Palmer, it seemed like that was just the beginning. 17 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello. So, this is my first NCIS fic. Got into the series a while back, but it always takes me time to build up enough confidence to post in a new fandom.**

 **Anyway, having watched 'Pyramid', I felt something had to be written because poor Jimmy got so overlooked. As in, one moment he being rescued from a hostage situation and then we don't even see until the next season when everything is 'fine'. This is a form of case fic, so everyone is featured, but there's a heavy emphasis on the Autopsy team.**

 **The story's complete, so I'll be updating regularly, but I can't say every day; worklife has a way of getting in the way. On that note, while I'm trying to become a doctor... not that kind of doctor, so I sorry for any medical inaccuracies; it's for the same reason you should never try to use to internet to diagnose yourself.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own the show or characters and I'm only writing for fun.**

When Jimmy Palmer first dived to the ground, his heart was pumping with adrenaline, his brain was racing through thoughts faster than he could catch them and his whole body was struggling to obey any instructions. It was when he landed that the horrible wetness began to dominate his mind. It was cold and the water had found itself all over his body. He was unsure he would ever be able to get dry again.

The noises around him barely touched his ears. There were gunshots and breaking glass, but it almost sounded like it was in a different building, not just four feet away. The main sound Jimmy concentrated on was EJ's soft breathing, bathing in the knowledge that there was somebody else in the room alive. It wasn't steady, but at least she'd dived down in time.

He got down in time, right? He couldn't feel any pain, but frankly it was so cold now, he could've lost his arm and he wouldn't have noticed. He couldn't even see properly at this stage, even if his eyes were open.

There suddenly was searing warmth on the back of his neck as a hand came to rest there. His breathing picked up even more. 'They hadn't shot Cobb. He was going to die.'

"Easy, easy, Jimmy. It's just me." Gibbs' voice broke through and Jimmy began to slowly reduce his breathing. He didn't open his eyes yet, though. He wasn't ready for that, he decided.

The hand moved away and a few seconds later, Jimmy's arms suddenly flopped to his sides as his wrists were released. In some ways, this was worse as his shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long. That was when he noticed his head was aching.

"Jimmy. Jimmy? Can you sit up?" Gibbs' voice was softer than ever, at least where Jimmy was concerned. And use of the first name? Something bad had happened. And Jimmy was sure ten seconds ago he knew what.

"Boss?" Another friendly voice. "He OK?" The voice sounded alarmed.

"DiNozzo, where are the EMTs? Kort hasn't regained consciousness."

"You think I care...?"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs suddenly barked, way too close for Jimmy's comfort. The Autopsy Assistant jerked in reflex until he found himself curled around and his arms wrapped around his body for warmth. Gibbs muttered a curse. The hand returned to his neck, resting there in what Jimmy thought should be a comforting gesture. However, now the association with Gibbs, and an angry Gibbs at that, made Jimmy's stomach crawl. Gibbs' attention rarely ended well for him.

He needed to do something. Gibbs left people to their jobs. So if he had a job, Gibbs would leave him to it.

"Couple of minutes out still. We didn't know what Cobb had planned so we kept them out the way."

"Kort's out and I don't know how severely injured he is."

"EJ needs them as well."

"Uncle..."

"You'll be checked over. To please me." "EJ, let them check."

Two voices. The concerned Uncle and concerned lover. Caring for the injured.

"Kort is currently injured worse," came her breathy argument.

Injured. Injured people needed doctors. Palmer was almost a doctor. He was also had a thought flash through his mind. He opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden light.

"Pinch," he said, unsure as to how loud he was.

Obviously not loud enough as the next thing Vance said was "His concussion could be fairly bad. And my jacket won't keep him warm enough."

"Pinch."

"Well, I can ask McEMT how far away they are again."

"Pinch!" This time it was loud enough to get the attention of Gibbs, who paused for a second, then made the decision to leave Palmer to pinch Trent's arm. The Autopsy Assistant watched the effect of the small pain stimulus.

"Hmmm...?" came the response. "Later..." The agent winced. "Got a pillow? The floor isn't too comfortable."

"Trent? How you feeling?"

"Like a brass band is playing in my head and the trombone is going right down to my stomach."

"Rib can't be too good," deduced Gibbs, taking off his jacket now and padding Kort round. "Stay still."

"Didn't know you cared, Gibbs?"

"Oh we still need to chat." The agent grimaced, and Jimmy wasn't sure if it was from pain or the threat of Gibbs.

Good deed done, Jimmy felt the water and cold again. The wind had changed direction and was now blowing through the open window, right across Jimmy. He shivered again and turned to get his face out the worst of it. There he caught a glance of:

"EJ!" he said. The woman was wrapped in her Uncle's jacket and his arms were firmly around her as she sat on the floor. However, the stress of the day was evident on her face. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Palmer."

"Gibbs, for heavens' sake, keep your man in order. My niece doesn't need this," sighed Davenport annoyed. Jimmy pulled back at this very important man's angry tone, huddling his knees closer in. Anything to keep warm.

"Hey!" butted in DiNozzo, but before he could continue into what could be career suicide, EJ cut him off.

"I think he may have hit his head when Cobb pulled him from the ME van."

That made sense. Jimmy could remember it vaguely.

"Regardless..."

Whatever onslaught Jimmy was going to face was interrupted by McGee announcing the EMTs. Kort disappeared in the first waft of people to flood into the room. The second gathered around EJ and took her downstairs, all on SecNav's insistence. Thus, Jimmy settled in, the wind from the broken window making him even colder, causing the water to freeze on his skin, or so it felt. He closed his eyes as even they got cold and waited.

He was unsure how much time had passed before something rustled around him. Blanket his mind provided and he pulled it closer.

"Hey Palmer," came McGee relaxing voice. "EMTs will be with you shortly OK? You hurt anywhere in particular?" Palmer managed a shake of his head. "Think you can sit up?" Palmer thought for a second then gave a small nod. A pair of hands grasped under and Jimmy unfolded his and opened his eyes so he could help. Eventually, he was sitting, knees pulled up towards him and rested his head on them. "You OK?" asked McGee as his face came into view. Jimmy nodded, just as the friendly face of an EMT came into view.

Just as the stranger settled down in front of him, a harsh cry of 'McGee!' went up and aside from a small smile of apology, the agent wasted no time in scurrying to wherever he was needed. So it was left to two EMTs to get pad Jimmy with heat packs before getting him down the stairs he'd previously been forced up.

The ambulance journey was nice enough and when he arrived at the hospital, Jimmy was passed between nurse and doctor and nurse and doctor until he was dry (though he still felt wet), had clean scrubs and was linked to an IV that took care of the fall in his blood sugar levels. No wonder he was so out of it he thought as he lulled himself to sleep.

...NCIS...

Gibbs surveyed the scene. It was still a mess, water being blown over everything, but the evidence had been picked up. The scene below had been covered in glass as well, which made things potentially dangerous. At least they knew what happened. They just needed enough evidence to prove they weren't covering anything up for the inquiry that would follow.

"Boss," Tony came up behind him. "EJ's been discharged from hospital. Gone home with her Uncle. Kort been patched up and is staying there to be monitored, but I'm wondering how quickly he'll try to escape."

"Vance has a guard on him for now. Needs to be debriefed." Both men took that comment in, knowing what kind of debrief Vance was after. "Palmer?"

"Staying overnight as well. Need to keep an eye on his blood sugar levels." Gibbs grunted to acknowledge. "Guess Vance will have called Breena so she can fuss over him."

Gibbs didn't respond. With the knowledge that all three victims were in good hands, his mind was wandering back to another family call he had to place. Leyla and Amira needed help to plan a funeral. A very special funeral.

...NCIS

Ducky scrubbed up alone. He'd been told Palmer was fine, but needed to be taken to hospital for a check over. It was hardly surprising.

He'd enlisted McGee's help to peel Cobb off the car after his rather unfortunate descent. However, Ducky was hard-pressed to feel any real sympathy for the man currently lying of his cold metal tables. He'd conducted so many autopsies due to his actions, including that of Mike Franks. He could understand his anger, but Mike wasn't the cause of it and neither were the sailors killed at the beginning.

And certainly not Jimmy Palmer.

When Ducky had heard the news that his assistant had been pulled by the throat into leaving with a serial killer, well, his stomach immediately tunnelled through his body and into the floor. The boy was, unfortunately, expendable to Cobb. Ducky had had to cling to hope that in Cobb's advanced mental state maybe the innocent could be spared.

Given the alternative was finding Jimmy dead and thrown aside like a piece of unwanted rubbish, Ducky stuck with that hope.

He was thus relieved to find his services were only required for one person and it was a man who started it all.

"Well, now, Jason Cobb," he said, leaning over the body. "Let's see if we might find out why."

...NCIS...

Vance stared at the phone. He'd dug out the information to EJ's family and put a quick call through to her next of kin, namely her parents. They had been surprisingly calm about the situation, or as much as Vance felt he could reveal. The Director had the feeling that the dear brother was going to have to answer a few questions, given his role in the Navy, and when they realised that SecNav was the reason their daughter was targeted, they might have a few more questions for him later. Thus, he let the matter lie for now.

Next came an interagency call to the Director of the CIA. Well, his deputy took the call, considering the time of night, but it was no longer that urgent and it would reach him. Kort would probably send his own report to the agency anyway, so there'd be something on record of what happened. It was unlikely he'd lie to them.

Finally came the quick phone call to Palmer's mother. At least, he dialled the number. It rang out. Too late in the night he guessed. Without a number for Breena on file yet, something Vance should prompt Palmer to add, he'd have to wait until the morning. Jimmy was in hospital overnight; he would probably just be sleeping.

...NCIS...

Jimmy had been sleeping. He'd dropped off a few hours earlier, but came around at about 2am to escape... cold. And wet. His dreams hadn't take any physical form yet. Maybe he was too exhausted. But he'd definitely awoken to the feeling of water clinging to him.

Now fully awake, he still felt rather damp, and battled with the idea of getting up to dry himself. An IV, he could easily reattach that, but the back of his mind did register the fact that it was warmer under the blankets than outside of them.

However, eventually the desire to get dry won out and he disconnected the IV as he lurched towards the bathroom. He thanked whoever it was who'd decided to place him in a private room. Inside were towels which he knew were meant for him.

He stripped off and rubbed himself down, getting into every crevice of his body. The lack of actual water meant the action turned his skin a faint shade of red, but he carried on until he was sure he covered every spare inch.

Once complete, he wrapped it around himself, wandered into the main room, slumping into the comfy chair which was unoccupied. Part of him knew he should put pants back on, but right now the slightly rough, absorbing material of the towel brought him greater comfort. He'd sit here, just for a short while, feeling a little drier.

The room was dim. He didn't have his glasses on so everything was blurry, but he could make out the forms of his bed, a table, another chair and the doorway which went out onto the brightly lit corridor. The silence eventually persuaded his eyes to slide close and...

He opened them in a flash as he felt the chain around his neck, pulling him so he almost fell over backwards. He wished he'd have been able to do something more about it, but his one foray into self-defence with Ziva had left him certain it wasn't his calling. Besides, in future he wasn't going to get into elevators with suspects.

The shock of the memory made him restless again, just as he heard the footsteps of a nurse coming down the corridor, probably to check things. He dutifully made his way to the bathroom again where he pulled his top on and grabbed his pants. Unbeknown to him, though, was that they had been lying in a few splashes on the floor. As he pulled them up, the wetness touched his leg and he let go as water seemed to crash over his body again.

"Mr Palmer?" came a voice, supposedly belonging to a nurse. "Are you alright, Mr Palmer?" The nurse came to a stop outside the open door and Jimmy thanked his lucky stars that this nurse was male. "Do you need a hand, Mr Palmer?"

"Erm... no. Sorry, I was just going... I just needed the light from outside. Light in here is too harsh." The nurse nodded his understanding and Jimmy internally sighed his relief.

"Well, you finished and I'll be here to get you back in."

"Oh, really, I can..."

"I need to reinsert your IV," he explained.

Jimmy nodded in defeat. He proceeded to use the toilet, thinking he might as well. Once finished, the nurse helped him back in and reattached the IV. Jimmy felt pretty helpless at this stage, but he sat back and enjoyed the feeling of being bustled over for a minute or so. The nurse obviously took this to mean the patient was content and left the room without another word after he was done.

Jimmy snuggled beneath the blankets, but sleep was now evading him. Or rather, every time he shut his eyes, he felt like he was choking. He burrowed deeper and decided to wait it out until the morning.

Once enough hours had passed and the sun was sufficiently high in the sky, he reached across to phone Dr Mallard. He was sure his boss wouldn't deny him the day off from all that happened, but he might be needed to give statements or something. Unfortunately, he ran up against the autopsy answer-phone and had to settle for leaving a rather stutter-y message to explain he wouldn't be in, but he'd be reachable.

It was only after he put the phone down that he realised his mobile was still back at NCIS. 'Oh well' he thought. 'I'm sure they'll be able to get hold of me if they want.' And with that, he finally slipped back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Should have mentioned, I'm currently only up to season 12, so I may have taken liberties with Palmer's family. But hey! Fiction! ;-)**

Ducky arrived slightly later that morning, due to his evening autopsy of Jason Cobb. Oh, he knew it could've waited, but he also knew that everyone wanted to shut this case down as soon as possible, not least so they could attend Mike's funeral with everything put to bed.

Upon entering the empty autopsy rooms, he noticed the flashing light of a message waiting. Shrugging off his hat and coat, he waited until he brewed a mid-morning cup of tea so he could settle in to completing the paperwork for Cobb, assuming this wasn't too important.

"Hmm... Oh... Doctor Mallard," came Jimmy's hesitant voice. "I'm just calling to say I'm not going to be in today. I'm sure you understand... I mean... I hope you understand. If I'm needed for anything, like a statement or report or dead body, just call me. Sorry I... Sorry... I'll see you tomorrow."

Ducky sighed as it clicked off. He sat back and took a sip of his drink. Jimmy was no longer in danger, but he sounded as unsure as ever. Being kidnapped by a serial killer did that to people. Hopefully with a few days' rest and recuperation would put him to rights. Still, something niggled at the medical examiner and he resolved to visit Jimmy at lunchtime. Just to check.

He sat forward again and brought out the incomplete paperwork he'd left. If nothing else, he could finish it all up before Mr Palmer was faced with Jason Cobb again, even if he was no longer a threat. Ducky liked to think he was a compassionate person and putting anyone through that was something he tried to avoid. It should be no different just because Jimmy was his assistant.

He was so absorbed in detailing the cause of death and transcribing his written notes onto computer that he barely noticed the door swish open. It was only when Vance cleared his throat he looked up.

"Oh Director, sorry I was miles away. Yes, working through this whole sorry affair to get it settled. I've taken the liberty of transcribing my own notes. Normally this task falls to Mr Palmer, but given the circumstances... Erm... yes. Is there something I can help you with Director?"

"Just came down to see how it's going down here. I heard hearing Mr Palmer's disappearance rather shocked you."

"As well it might," huffed Dr Mallard. "He may be the junior member of the Autopsy, but he's been working with me for enough years that I can't deny a certain attachment to the boy. I suppose it's natural given the circumstances. He just always seems so young. Well, I suppose almost everyone here does to me, but he has a particular wide-eyed quality with amplifies it. When he came to me about his engagement to Breena I had to stop myself saying he was too young. In truth, he's plenty old enough."

Vance listened deeply, realising that the Doctor needed to air his thoughts and rarely would anyone want to listen to him ramble about his assistant. However, that in itself wasn't right and this was the perfect opportunity to correct that. Especially considering what he'd just learned.

The first order of the day was to deal with CIA, but since everyone was at fault a little and Davenport was willing to fall on his sword for it, the conversations were filled with skating around the issue until they agreed that the agency could have access to the reports, while NCIS covered the murdered committed and explaining what they could to the families still waiting for news. It was, in some respects, the harder job, but Vance decided he'd rather deal with it, to see that it was done correctly and so the families didn't feel something could have been covered up; the CIA had took much of a reputation.

He'd taken a break afterwards and it was only when he came back he saw Palmer's personal file lying on his desk, reminding him of his obligation to contact his family. He dialled the number again and was relieved to find it was picked up. Unfortunately, he discovered that this was just the cleaner. It turned out that Jimmy's mother was on holiday with his step-dad, touring Italy. They were unreachable and wouldn't be back for another month.

What worried Vance was that the cleaner didn't know anything about Jimmy. She had no idea that Mrs Palmer, or Mrs Harrison as she now was, had a son. She was perplexed as she knew Mrs Harrison had been married previously and she knew all about Mr Harrison's children. She said both parents positively doted on their teenage off-spring from Mr Harrison's previous relationship. But never had a Jimmy Palmer been mentioned.

Vance hung up. He'd only left a message that the Harrisons should call back if they got home early. No need to worry a poor cleaner.

Confused by the situation, he made his way down to the bottom of NCIS to find Dr Mallard. Hopefully, someone closer to Jimmy would be able to explain it.

Ducky eventually wound down his story of the time Palmer brought jelly beans to Autopsy and almost dropped them in a body.

"He ever talk about his mother?" Vance deciding to cut to the chase. Ducky blinked at the unexpected question.

"Why, yes. He emails her fairly regularly, I believe. Certainly, Gibbs helped him with one such email when he got shot at."

"What about his step-dad?"

"I was unaware he had one," admitted Ducky. He studied his Director for a few seconds before continuing. "What exactly are you trying to get at, Director?"

"His mother is currently in Italy. Unreachable. But his cleaner didn't know he existed. Knew all about the family, she thought. Nothing about Jimmy." Ducky's face was clearly a blank and the usually verbose Doctor was trying to think what this meant. "I'm sure it's personal." Vance tried to brush it off, realising he wouldn't get answers from anyone but Jimmy. "Do you have a number for Breena? I need to inform someone."

This caught Ducky's attention. "No. No, I haven't. This is most unfortunate. I, along with the rest of the MCRT, were under the impression that Breena would probably be fussing over him. However, he was in no state to make the phone call himself, from what I heard. Oh, how foolish of me. I should've gone to check on him after the autopsy. Before the autopsy even. He's most likely been in the hospital alone, and after such trauma, it is ill-advised for someone so... untrained to be left alone."

"He wasn't alone, Doctor. He was in a hospital."

"He doesn't have someone he knows. Such experiences can be very isolating at the best of times, especially when surrounded by strangers." Ducky stood and grabbed his hat and coat. "I only briefly had a chance to talk to Jethro yesterday and he said Jimmy was shaken."

"He was. I was going to make sure he talked to the agency therapist when he returned to work. However, he's resilient. Think about how he acted when Lee died."

"Director? To my knowledge, they only crossed paths at crime scenes and when she came for paperwork. A friendship based on proximity." Ducky paused. "Though, thinking back, he was reluctant to perform the autopsy. I, however, thought that given he may at some point perform one on someone close to him, he may as well start with an acquaintance."

Vance blinked. The revelation shocked him. He thought everyone knew. The worst kept secret in the agency DiNozzo had once called it. But Ducky was slightly isolated in Autopsy. Most likely got gossip from Jimmy. And who'd want to get Jimmy in trouble with his boss, especially if they thought the man already knew.

Vance realised at this point, he had to bite a bullet which would hurt Ducky a lot more than it would have done.

"Doctor Mallard." The older man looked up to him as he was putting his coat on. "Mr Palmer and Agent Lee had an affair. Lasted quite a while from what I heard. Started while Gibbs was 'vacationing' in Mexico to shortly before I was assigned Director."

Ducky's face was rock. He sat heavily back into his chair, unable to comprehend the meaning of this revelation. He made Jimmy cut open a woman he'd had an affair with. And for so long. That meant emotions were involved. No wonder he didn't want to perform her autopsy. It was like asking Jethro to cut open Jenny.

"It would appear then, Director," Ducky said, sounding older than he had. "That I do not know him so well." He sighed. "He'd never been reluctant before. Even offered to help with Kate's, but I felt that was too early in his career. I should have listened." He half smiled briefly as a thought crossed his mind. "You know I did suspect that once someone had used autopsy for... other purposes. Found a lady's undergarment under one of the tables. Looking back, I did ask Jimmy about it, but he denied all knowledge. Well, he was hardly going to admit it. I recall using an autopsy bay in Edinburgh for such a purpose when I was younger as well. It seems the youth are not so different."

Vance took a deep breath in. "Well, then I'll leave you to deal with _that_ however you wish. Certainly, he had enough from me at the time of Langer's death. Then, he was resilient. He can be so again. Go visit him now. Just remember, he'll be fine given time. Jethro called earlier, said Leyla wants the funeral for tomorrow, for her and Amira's sake. This whole mess will take several days to sort through. The Autopsy report can wait. We know what killed him."

Ducky nodded and took his hat as he made his way back out.

...NCIS...

He arrived at the hospital just over twenty minutes later. By then, it was near lunch and the hospital was in a middle of a bustling day. It took him several minutes to reach the receptionist and when he did, he had to wait while a hysterical woman pushed past, trying to find what had happened to her son. Ducky could be patient.

It was with some surprise when he learned Jimmy had been discharged about an hour earlier. Being a medical proxy, as he was for many people at NCIS, they were able to tell him that Jimmy's concussion wasn't serious and his diabetes was stable.

However, just as he was thanking the nurse on duty, a doctor collared him and led him to a slightly quieter area.

"You know Mr Palmer? He didn't have visitors? Which is worrying after such an attack. I gave him several numbers of people he could talk to, but I somehow don't think he will, even if he could afford to."

"He's my assistant. Unfortunately, there was a...ah... miscommunication which led me to believe he had visitors. I can assure you, however, that I am a doctor and hold a Psychology degree and will keep an eye on him. Plus he has a free session with a therapist already pencilled in."

The other doctor looked satisfied by this news. "I was concerned. This isn't something I have to deal with every day and when he entered he was a very distressed state. Not least because he was soaking wet still and almost hypothermic." Ducky gulped; he hadn't heard it was quite that bad. "I feel better now I know he will get help." And Ducky resolved he would.

When he thought back later, though, it was a resolution that was doomed to fail.

As soon as he reached the car park, his phone rang. In the chaos that had rained in autopsy, Jimmy had been unable to finish preparing Mike Franks' body for release. Admittedly, it was only a few finishing touches plus the seemingly endless paperwork, but the funeral was now set for tomorrow; it was a nod to Leyla's faith, when everything else was based on Mike's Naval roots. Ducky could not, would not, make more trouble for one of his oldest friends in his time of grief.

He made his way back to NCIS, his thoughts on his assistant lingering, but being overtaken by the concerns he held for Mike and the people he'd left behind.

As expected, when he reviewed the work Jimmy had managed and figured out what was left, there were just the finishing touches. However, there was then contacting the funeral home for collection, signing out the body and making sure all the relevant paperwork was in order, that everything abided by state laws. Split between two people, it never seemed to take so long, but then, Ducky thought, that's why he had an assistant.

By the time he was finished, Abby was knocking on his doorframe with the others three in tow. He was thus persuaded to go for a drink after work, a suitable toast for a man like Mike Franks. He checked the phone for more messages, but found none there. Hopefully Jimmy was sleeping well and things could be put right tomorrow.

...NCIS...

Jimmy wasn't sleeping. To return to his flat he'd had to catch three separate buses and a metro. It never registered that he wasn't at Bethesda, just the nearest hospital to the scene. By the time, he got home and his landlord turned up with spare keys, he was exhausted and collapsed on his bed, but too many images flittered across his vision whenever he closed his eyes.

He checked his blood sugar levels and fixed himself a sandwich when he realised it was a little low. Then he pottered about a short while before he noticed the note stuck to the back of his door. Breena was out of town for a few days. A relation was in hospital and Breena was the only one with the time to check on him. So he was still alone.

He slumped on his sofa. He switched on the TV. He channelled flicked, then switched it off. He turned on his laptop and browsed a few sites. He switched his laptop off. He switched the TV back on. Instead of trying to find something to hold his interest this time, he settled on inane chatter and colourful images to lull him.

He wasn't aware of falling asleep, but he knew he had at least zoned out for several hours. He had recollections of counting the bumps on the ceiling and the stripes on his wallpaper. It was interspersed with women comparing dresses and a doctor explaining how to cure backache with pomegranate juice.

When he realised that the daytime chat had morphed into evening comedies, he pulled himself upright again and checked his blood sugar. Better but time for something to eat.

His will to cook was through the floor, so he called up some pizza. When he realised his wallet was also back at NCIS, he cancelled his order. Looking through his cupboards, he tugged out a packet of pasta and set about boiling it up. He thought of sauces, then decided it wasn't worth it. Plain pasta would do.

He forced himself to eat some, but much was left as he curled up with front of the TV again. A peaceful documentary on birds of paradise held his attention for a while and eventually he felt his eyes sliding shut. He grabbed a cushion to be more comfortable and let his mind rest.

...NCIS...

"All of you knew?! Why didn't anyone tell me?" Ducky huffed. "I have as much interest in gossip as anyone. Many of my stories are based on hearsay and mutterings. I remember when I was working in..."

"Ducky," said Tony carefully, mildly regretting getting the Scotsman another drink. "Telling you would've been like telling Gibbs that McGee had hooked up with Ziva. No-one wants their boss to know their mating habits, especially when it's with a colleague."

"But after..."

"And no-one wants to talk about who a dead woman's has had sex with. Especially when Palmer was obviously trying to put it out his own mind," said Abby.

"I should not worry too much, Ducky," said Ziva. "After we found about Amanda it was apparent they did not know each other so well. They were merely friends with bayonets."

"Benefits. Why would they have bayonets?" asked Tony.

"Well, I do not understand all of your idioms. A bayonet sounds perfectly reasonable for sex when you think of 'couch potatoes'."

"And this is why I'm not hooking up with you," said McGee, staring in horror at her.

Ducky sighed as the conversation descended into an argument why McGee and Ziva wouldn't work; Ziva and Tony blamed McGee strange habits, while Abby and McGee countered that Ziva would misunderstand half the things he said. It didn't wind down until Abby started to reveal _way_ too much about McGee's prowess in the bedroom.

Ducky did admit, however, that, all in all, the conversation involved sex, women and booze. Mike would've been proud.


	3. Chapter 3

The funeral was in the morning. Ducky concentrated on helping Jethro, Leyla and Amira get through it as well as they could. He provided a watchful eye over the child as the adults finalised the details, then walked back from the burial site with Jethro at his side, offering what he hoped were comforting words.

He ploughed into a story a funeral that was so rain affected that the coffin rose up out of the ground on a wave of water, scaring the relatives who thought that the man was coming back to life. He was relieved that by the Gibbs offered up a small smile at the end rather than cutting him off in impatience. However, as soon as Jethro left with 'Mike's girls', Ducky noticed somebody was missing. He wasn't surprised though. The young man had been through such an ordeal that the ME thought it unlikely he'd be out and about for another week.

He explained this to Abby as he invited her for a spot of tea in Autopsy before they properly returned to work. She was unwilling to be alone quite so soon after the funeral and Ducky would be lying if he said he didn't feel the same.

It was as they were stepping off the elevator he noticed the lights in the silver room were on, full and bright. This was unexpected, as he was sure he had switched them off last night, but maybe an agent had come down looking for him. There could have been a new case in the past 24 hours and Ducky wouldn't have been aware.

The pair were brought up short when they entered however. The sight that greeted them made Abby let out a little gasp and Ducky was rendered motionless for a few seconds.

Jimmy was standing over Cobb's body, staring. His face was pale, the only colour being his sad, lost eyes and the heavy bags beneath them. Further down, a red, angry line was still imprinted on his neck and his exposed arms were covered in bruises, with the occasional cut. He looked like he'd aged years.

Abby was the first to move, crossing the room and hurling her arms around him before Ducky could stop her. The reaction was as expected; Jimmy yelped and pushed hard against the person he hadn't notice enter his space, let alone the room. Abby, on her wedged boots, stumbled backwards and was only stopped from falling by Ducky, who by this time had regained his wits.

The hurt was as clear on her face as the guilt was on Jimmy's. "Jimmy..."

"Abigail," Ducky cut her off. "Why don't you returned to your lab?" He never took his eyes off his younger assistant, who was slowly crumbling.

"But..."

"Abigail. Please." His tone was firm and Abby took one glance at each man before retreating to her own domain.

As the doors swished closed, Ducky proceeded to take his hat and coat off and tossed them on the back of a chair with less care than he usually took. That completed, he moved closer to Jimmy, but maintained a little distance.

"Jimmy..." he started, but was immediately interrupted.

"I didn't mean to. I was just... surprised and I didn't see it was her and... oh god. Abby's gonna hate me forever now." Jimmy slumped to the floor and so Ducky followed.

"Nonsense. You sell the girl short, she understood. Now, would you mind telling me what you're doing here, Mr Palmer? I assumed another day off was in order."

"I couldn't sleep. Or... or rather I did sleep, for a bit, but it got... and I watched a lot of late night to early morning TV and then... then it was time for work and... and I do try not to be late Doctor Mallard. I was on time, but you weren't here so I thought I'd do some paperwork."

"I was at Mike Franks' funeral."

Jimmy's eyes widened even more. "That was this morning? I missed it! Oh god, I missed it. I am so sorry. I didn't kn..."

"Jimmy, it's quite alright. No-one was expecting you to be there. They thought you to be home, recovering. Besides, it was all done so quickly that the news was only really spread around NCIS, seeing as most people he knew either work here or retired and could be told through colleagues. In that sense, it's my fault you didn't know it was today and I'm sure Mike would've understood. Now, this paperwork you did...?"

The change of topic didn't go as he planned though. As soon as he did, Jimmy started to glance up at the pulled-out tray above them, currently housing Jason Cobb.

"First thing I did was start to read through them, but two of the reports didn't match, so I... I just wanted to check which was right." Ducky cursed his own inaccuracy. "Anyway, I pulled him out and suddenly I couldn't stop looking at him. I didn't see that much of him, what with driving and the hood and everything..." The hood was news the Ducky and he cursed himself again for not checking with Gibbs what happened in detail. "And as soon as I saw him, I couldn't stop thinking how normal he looks. He looks just like the other victims we get through here. Even the innocent ones."

"Such is the way of things, my dear boy. Once we are dead, we may leave lots of clues as to our lifestyle, but we never disclose our minds. What it holds is kept within and taken to whatever grave the body ends up in. Now, since we have seen he is no different in death, may I put him away?"

Jimmy nodded and started to rise to help. However, Ducky placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him and proceeded to re-zip the bag and push the tray in by himself. Once sure the murder was out of sight, he offered a hand to Jimmy, who gladly accepted it and was thus ushered into a waiting chair. The Doctor set about making some calming tea and brought out some biscuits and a blanket to wrap around Jimmy.

As Palmer munched on one, Ducky sat down opposite him heavily and sighed. Jimmy paused, glancing at his mentor.

"Mr Palmer. Tell me about Agent Lee."

Jimmy then seemed to stop altogether. His hands shook so he lowered them to his lap, not trusting himself to pick up the cup sitting on the side. The silence stretched to a minute before he asked:

"Why?"

"It has recently been brought to my attention that you were more than friends."

"I thought you knew."

"An assumption shared by the rest of the building, it would seem."

There was another pause. "Are you mad at me?"

"For an affair? No. At your age, I was hopping between women, though never at the same time. Though I later found out that Susie was visiting Owen 'after-hours' at the same time that I had a regular 'appointment'. Though I ask you not to use Autopsy in the future." Jimmy blushed and frankly Ducky was glad he could get colour into his cheeks.

"Sorry about the bra. I spent half the day looking for the other part. I... Sorry... sorry."

"I believe I owe you an apology as well." Jimmy frowned. "You are always keen to help out with anybody. I should've realised something was up when you weren't. Did you talk to anyone about it?"

"No. No I swear." The shake of the head was vigorous and confused Ducky further. "I knew it was classified, what happened. I knew I couldn't mention it."

Ducky sighed. Of course after such a leak, one where no doubt Jimmy felt under suspicion, the young man felt he couldn't do anything that could even vaguely be considered a security threat.

"Well now talk. How did you feel?"

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds as Jimmy considered the question. He'd never dreamed about answering such a question, rather concentrating on making sure it was never asked. But now Ducky was answering and... how did he feel?

"Angry."

"A common feeling, shared by many."

"At Bankston."

Ducky blinked, then nodded slowly. "I can understand that. But why is that your dominant emotion?"

"Because he had no regard to the... He just took her and used her and... and if it wasn't for him... maybe..."

"Maybe you two would have gone further. More than just an affair."

"It was starting to head that way. Then, she began pulling away. She was always private, but suddenly I seemed to be granting more favours and... I told Vance I felt used. And I was. I just didn't realise how much."

"Agent Lee was in a difficult situation. I can't say she handled it as well as she could've done, but I could understand her motivations. She was a human with a weak spot that he exploited. Yes, you can be angry at him. Just don't let it consume you."

"I know. I think it did for a bit. But then I failed one of my units and it was a wake-up call. I couldn't let him ruin my life as well."

Ducky winced internally. Another red flag he missed. Jimmy always worked so hard, balancing work, study and life. He should've known something was going on. Instead, he went for the easy explanation and accused his assistant of spending too much time in bars. As if he had the time. He watched the other man closely though and decided he was going to hold onto the positive note Jimmy was on.

"And you didn't. Now you have Breena. An excellent woman, I think. How's she been finding you the last day or so?"

"Oh, she had to go out of town. Family emergency. She won't be back for a few days. I'm thinking I should be able to sort myself out enough so she doesn't realise too much. I don't want her to worry about me going to work. She doesn't deserve that. It's not like I'm an agent. I want to give her a life free of worries, especially ones like that. It's not like I'm normally in danger."

"You've thought this through a lot," Doctor Mallard stated.

"I've had the time."

"Jimmy..." Ducky began. He paused but knew he had to know. "Jimmy, since leaving the hospital, have you... seen anyone? Talked to anyone?"

"What? No, no. I swear I haven't." Once more, the insecurity over being viewed as a security threat was rearing its head. "I don't even know what official story is being put out. Besides, I was so tired yesterday. Took all my energy to get home. Too many buses." There was a pause. "Doctor Mallard. Is everything OK? Did I do something wrong?"

Doctor Mallard looked at him slowly, the crestfallen expression still on his face. He couldn't not show it, the emotion welling up inside him.

"No, you didn't," he eventually pushed out. "But Jimmy, I would've come and picked you up. Anyone at NCIS would've done so."

"I figured they were all busy."

"Not for you, not after what happened. You know, I had the Director down here worrying over you. He couldn't get hold of your mother. She's on holiday." Jimmy nodded. "He was worried he hadn't informed anyone, hadn't checked you had someone to look after you. We assumed Breena... Obviously not. If you want, we could try to get hold of your mother..."

"No, no. That would just annoy Daniel. My step-dad," he clarified. "He doesn't like reminders that Mum's been married before, so I stick to emailing her."

"You don't talk to her much otherwise."

"She's happiest with Daniel, happy when Daniel is happy. I want her happy. She deserves to be happy."

Ducky sat back. Somehow, this was drawing out into a long conversation and was including more and more issues he was unaware of. For goodness' sake, it's not like there was anyone else working with him down here. Jimmy wasn't someone lost in the throng of an office.

The old doctor knew he sometimes talked too much, but he'd always considered himself a good listener as well, someone who would take the time to hear out concerns and address any problems he noticed. Did this only apply to the agents though? To be sure, they had a plethora of troubles stemming from their high stress jobs, but then that extended often enough into Autopsy that he should be aware of the impact it has on his only assistant.

Mr Palmer, it seemed, was too easy to ignore.

"Doctor Mallard?" questioned Mr Palmer and the doctor realised that he'd drifted into thought.

He shook his head. "Mr Palmer, the Director wanted you to see the Agency therapist before returning to work. Obviously, that horse has bolted, but there is still worth in closing the barn door this time I think. You should take the session. In fact, I insist on it. A kidnapping is a terrifying experience. However, I also have one more favour to ask."

"Yes Doctor?"

"Talk to me." Jimmy frowned. "You have any problems, I want to know in future. Family, work, anything."

"Doctor?"

"Humour me. I just feel like I've had too many revelations over the past day concerning you." He held up his hand as Jimmy went to apologise. "That is not your fault. I talk a lot and never ask. I should. I should observe more; after all, my job is to do just that, albeit with a little more cutting involved. I just don't want to be in a position where the Director knows more about my assistant who he only talks to once a year than I do. And especially when some of them are so intertwined with your work. All I'm asking is for you to tell me you have a problem. I can't promise I'll be able to help, but I won't judge you."

Jimmy sat there in silence. He was too stunned for words. It had been a long time since anyone had said they were there for him. Even his mother told him to email so he wouldn't interrupt and annoy Daniel more. His Dad was the last person to do so, that he would support him whatever.

He missed his Dad.

Eventually, he mustered up a small nod and that seemed to satisfy Doctor Mallard for the time being. The Doctor obviously decided that was enough for one day, starting to shuffle through the paperwork and Palmer could only agree. He was beginning to feel quite tired by this point, but knew he hadn't done much, so grabbed a pile. However, a hand stopped him.

"Why don't you clean up the apparatus?"

Jimmy nodded, both in agreement and understanding; the Doctor didn't want him dealing with Cobb any more than he had to. Jimmy wasn't about to argue, so he stood slowly and moved over to the sink to start scrubbing knives.

Ducky began a rambling story about a colleague of his who once took his paperwork and made it into giant posters, pinning them up around his Autopsy just so people knew when he said he had paperwork, he really did have paperwork. From there, he meandered through ancient stories during his medical training days and a few stories which sounded more made-up.

Nearing the end of the day, Palmer found his eyes were drooping and his feet were getting heavier. Eventually, he gave up and collapsed into a seat. Doctor Mallard did not comment on this tiredness, but began to gather files into one heap as if finishing up.

It was then that the phone rang. Doctor Mallard answered it promptly and took down a few details on a sticky note before hanging up.

"A body has been found Arlington." Jimmy gulped; he wasn't sure he'd be able to stay on his feet, but reached for equipment anyway. "No." He stopped. "Jimmy, go home. You're dead on your feet. I can handle this by myself and it's not far. You, however, need rest. How did you get in?"

"Metro." Jimmy thought back to scrambling round his flat for loose change for the ticket.

"Someone is probably still in the bullpen. Stay with one of them tonight." Ducky sighed. "I'd say go to my house, but I may not return this evening. When you get home, just please take it easy. If you're still tired in the morning, don't worry about coming in."

Jimmy nodded, too tired to argue. He grabbed his kit as Ducky began packing kit. Remembering his wallet this time, he was now prepared to order pizza the moment he got in.

He did go up to the bullpen, even though he wasn't prepared to ask to stay with anyone. However, the whole team had decided to take the opportunity for an early night, no doubt finding work rather stifling at the moment. Jimmy could understand that feeling.

He entered the external elevator as he settled on taking the Metro home. Before it set off, another Agent arrived, not one Jimmy knew that well, and stood besides Jimmy.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Gibbs strode into work with a coffee in his hand and a frown on his face. It was had been a long couple of days, but he needed to get back to NCIS and see that everything is ticking over as it should be. He came into the bullpen to find his agents weren't there yet, not that he expected them to be; it was still barely 0600, but he always started his days early.

He dropped into his chair, his coffee not quite perking him up like usual. He flicked through a few reports that his team had left on his desk, as his normal routine slowly engrossed him.

He was so caught up on it, he barely noticed the figure slip through at 0630, mentally making a note to ask Ducky what called the Autopsy team in so early. It was the only reason he could think of for Palmer early appearance. However, once his team was in and a cold case McGee had been working on had thrown up a lead, the question slipped his mind.

...NCIS...

The next few weekdays, Jimmy managed to get into a new routine. He'd wake around 0500 covered in sweat from dreams he couldn't remember, wait in bed before giving up on sleep at 0530, be at work by 0630. When Doctor Mallard entered, he made sure it appeared he had only just got there. By 1730, he'd feel tired; by 1800, Doctor Mallard would send him home. He started taking longer routes home, going via the Potomac for the air, going via a takeaway for food, never going via a bar for drink. He was quickly getting used to arriving home at nearly 2100, where he'd either slump on the sofa, switch on the TV and wait until midnight when he was sure he was tired enough to avoid nightmares for at least some of his short hours in bed, or sit in front of his textbooks, reading until sleep claimed him.

That weekend, he came in again, but with textbooks to study so Doctor Mallard wouldn't get too suspicious of the sparkling autopsy tables. This time, he lost track of time and didn't leave until 2200. He figured no-one would check his logs.

It was a schedule reminiscent of Gibbs', which he only knew as Gibbs seemed to be the only person consistently working when he got in ad was often there when he left.

And if McGee couldn't keep up, Palmer certainly couldn't.

Everything seemed to take twice as long, as he had to double check everything for stupid mistakes. In some ways, this made it his best work, and hence in covering up his tiredness, he made Ducky even more suspicious. He knew this as it could be the only reason that the Doctor was _still_ releasing him from work early, even if he wasn't insisting the young man should 'stay with a friend' anymore. Like Jimmy wanted to explain all of this to any acquaintances he'd made in his years of working at NCIS and studying a med degree.

In response, Doctor Mallard wasn't taking him out on any of the callouts, stating that he wouldn't until the MCRT were back on active cases. This had been delayed by McGee's cold case which had the agents running around.

He knew he should say something to Doctor Mallard, but his mind was fuzzy enough on whether he everything was that bad or whether he just needed time; it had only been a week. He kept putting off the therapist visit, insisting he wasn't ready or was tired or was just 'in the middle of something and could they talk about it later' or he'd 'go next week'.

The week went rapidly. Breena still wasn't home as she'd taken the opportunity to see some relatives she hadn't seen in ages. However, she'd be home in a few days and Jimmy was dreading talking to her about why he'd taken to washing with a flannel as he couldn't even stand under the shower.

...NCIS...

Eventually, the inevitable happened and the world moved on. Gibbs' team were taken off cold cases the Tuesday after Cobbs' death; it had been two weeks. Two days later, two weeks after Jimmy's return, there came a call in the middle of the day signalling the start of an active case.

Jimmy was back in the field.

They arrived on the scene a little late, although for once it wasn't for Jimmy's lack of navigational skills, but the shocking state of the uneven, rough track, lined with woods on one side, he'd had to drive the van up for the last mile of the journey and even then they weren't close enough. The dead Petty Officer had been left on the edge of a corn field, where the stalks were coming up to hip height, and the only way to him was traipsed all the way across the edge of it.

Jimmy pulled out two of the heavier bags and was hit by a feeling of dizziness. Medically, he knew he should sit down and drink some water, but then Doctor Mallard appeared, taking one of the lighter bags, and started off on his merry way. Jimmy didn't have the courage not to follow him.

It was uncharacteristically hot for the time of year, as Spring began to make way for Summer. The Sun was the only object in the cloudless sky and its beam blinded Jimmy as he trudged along. Nearing the scene, Jimmy began to experience shivers and his arms broke out in goosebumps. He made his way closer to the edge, using the shade from the trees to block the Sun a little. He knew it was the sudden rise in temperature which led to the sensation, but he also knew something else.

He had developed an intense hatred of shivering.

Breathing deeply, he dumped his bags down at the crime scene with a little less grace than usual. No-one seemed to notice though, as the team was already working, trading information and barbs.

"All I'm saying is why did they have to dump it in the countryside? There are perfectly good places to hide a body in the city that don't involve trudging over a muddy field and standing beside a mosquito infested stream."

"We have found body in dirtier places. What is the problem?"

"He stepped on a piece of riverbank that turned out to be more river than bank," explained McGee, pausing only briefly as he adjusted his camera.

"That is all?"

"These are new socks! And they're ruined! Now I'm going to have to splat around all day in them." Tony paused for a few seconds in realisation. "I could get mushrooms growing on my foot."

"In a minute you'll have my foot up your rear." The conversation was brought to a hurried end, although DiNozzo could still be heard muttering in disgust. "Duck, cause of death?"

"One day, you'll let me get back to Autopsy to look at a victim properly before asking that." The Doctor looked up at the Agent's expression. "Well, one can wish. In this case, I'd say stab wound. However, there is a distinct lack of a struggle involved." Ducky started to rummage through his bag. "I daresay his exposure to the elements will interfere with any reading, but he's still mildly fresh. Ah... Mr Palmer. Do you know where the liver thermometer is?"

"Is... is it not there, Doctor?" stammered Palmer. Thinking back, he hadn't prepped the bags in a few days and with Doctor Mallard handling the last call-out alone, it slipped his mind to check what supplies were needed.

"Evidently not, Mr Palmer, else I wouldn't be asking."

"I... I might not have checked the bags since the last body," Palmer admitted. "But I keep spares in the van. Shall I get one?"

"What do you...?" Gibbs started to growl.

"Jethro!" Ducky cut off. There was a second of silence. Ducky usually let Gibbs treat Palmer however he liked, sometimes joining in. The shift was not unnoticed by the team. "Mr Palmer, whilst getting it, could you bring back the gurney as well? To save on trips."

In spite of the Sun, Palmer was all too eager to escape from under Gibbs' classic glare and scurried off.

Gibbs turned to look at Ducky properly before responding. "He doing alright, Duck?"

Ducky also took a moment to consider his reply. "He will be. I hope. Getting back to normality can only help, but I would ask you to exhibit some patience while he adjusts back. He's still getting tired near the end of the day."

"Not surprised. He's coming in minutes after me in the morning."

"WHAT?!" The anger erupted all over Ducky's face as he realised that once more Palmer had snuck past him. Without the assistant present however, his anger had a different direction. "And you didn't think to mention this to me?"

"I figured you'd realise soon enough. He's _your_ assistant, Duck."

Around them, the rest of the team began slowing their movements as they tried to make it look like they were working whilst in fact they were watching the older pair. Arguments between Ducky and Gibbs had happened in the past, but were still rare enough that it was still novel.

"And he's a part of _this_ team which belongs to _you_. I thought you'd at least mention this before letting me bring him to a scene. You failed to mention one of the main reasons he shouldn't be out in the field. You didn't even think to check with me that I knew. You are the one who has to keep checking your agents are ready for the field. I am not used to such making such assessments."

"You're the one with the degree, Duck. I thought I could leave it to be your call."

That left Ducky silent, but fuming. He knew he should have seen it. After all, had he not promised himself only a fortnight ago to keep a closer eye on the young man?

But surely he wasn't the only one who cared about him. Was he not part of this team? Did they not realise the amount of sacrifice being a Medical Examiner assistant entailed on this team? Did they not see all the hours, balanced with studying, the dedication required?

"You know, Jethro, whenever _your_ team has been troubled in any way, I believe I am correct in assuming I am often among the first to offer a friendly ear. I have seeked and been seeked out for such a purpose. Even when you are aware and dealing with it! Am I now to understand that this does not work both ways?

"And don't tell me that he's not an agent, never in danger so doesn't need it. He has been kidnapped and almost killed. He's been shot at and people he cares about have died. And he, unlike you lot, didn't even sign up for such a thing."

Gibbs sighed and adjusted his hat. He knew this wasn't a matter easily resolved and right now he had a dead body at his feet. For him, this overrode any background worries about anything else going on and he'd really like it if _everyone_ on the team remembered that.

First, he shot a pointed look at the younger three, who hurriedly got on with their work. Secondly, he looked the Doctor in the eye. His outburst had defused some of the anger, so hopefully it would be easy enough to get him to carry on.

"Ok, Duck."

"For now."

"The body?" He gestured at the poor Petty Officer who'd been forgotten, a fate he probably didn't deserve. Ducky sighed and went back to examining the man, looking for any more abnormalities. A clatter in the distance went unnoticed, the assumption it was just the gurney Palmer was always complaining about playing up again. He thus continued until the air was shattered by a gunshot.

...NCIS...

Across the field, Jimmy had just reached the Autopsy van. He was glad of the advice to bring the gurney with him as with the heat, which seemed to be getting more intense, he could _feel_ his veins bulging against his skin. It was always the problem with having to wear the Autopsy boiler suit over a set of normal clothes; mild weather quickly felt like a heatwave.

However, the most important thing was the liver thermometer. He found one easily enough, tucked in a drawer full of extra supplies ready for undiscovered bodies that might pop up.

It was while he was tugging the gurney out from the van that he heard the clattering behind him. He turned sharply to see the farmer who had originally found the body on his land lugging a rather heavy looking box out of his barn to his tractor trailer. Helping him where three younger men, all distinctly Navy from their haircut.

This immediately struck Jimmy as suspicious, seeing as a _Navy_ PO had been found dead at the farm. He took a step back, hoping to stay out of sight in order to phone Agent Gibbs. Certainly, this was more his line of expertise. Jimmy autopsied, Gibbs arrested.

Unfortunately, the gurney had a nasty habit of being rather loud. It had always been shaky, a fact Jimmy had mentioned on occasion, but seeing as this wasn't a potentially fatal flaw, he'd been ignored. Now, however, Jimmy got worried that that assumption was, itself, flawed.

His step backwards shook the van, which shook the gurney _just enough_ so the wheel toppled over the edge.

The clatter seemed to echo for a second and the four men looked round.

All were frozen for a second, until the younger men reacted. As soon as they began to reach for their guns, Jimmy began to run.


	5. Chapter 5

From his previous experience, he knew that he should not run towards the armed men. This also meant running towards the path along the edge of the field which led to the agents was not an option. Furthermore, he vaguely recalled Doctor Mallard's lecture of the habits of antelope, or something similar. They can't outrun a predator in a straight line, but have better luck in zig-zagging.

With this subconsciously in mind, Jimmy made for the woods which lined the entry road.

Immediately, this proved a sensible choice as the men disappeared from view around the house. He made it to the woods without further incident and barrelled forward, narrowly missing an overgrown root sticking upwards.

He had a fair head-start and made it a decent way inside, at least 80 yards so he was no longer relying on direct sunlight, when the trunk exploded in a shower of splinters beside him. He didn't even hear the shot fired.

The natural reaction to duck actually served him well as he went cleanly under a low branch he had not seen.

He ran on, overbalancing at times as his body left his feet behind. His heartbeat was beating in his ears and his breathing was becoming ragged.

He felt another bullet pass his right shoulder. It left a warm patch where the friction heated up his coat. Another one caught a nearby tree. It was clear they were getting closer.

He swung himself under a tree branch, using the momentum to push himself faster. He decided to change his direction by 90 degrees round a tree in a hope to fox them. This seemed to work for a few seconds, the footsteps becoming quieter, until a shout went up and they changed as well.

Twigs snapped under his boots, causing splinters to fly in directions. If he was concentrating, he'd have worried about the bottoms of his pants becoming torn and blood starting to ooze from small scratches. At least, the Agents should be able to track him. Or at least, find his body.

He shook the thought from his head. He just needed to keep running.

Sprinting however was not a long distance speciality of Jimmy's and his lungs were burning with the effort. His throat was beginning to be bitten by the cooler air; Jimmy remembered why he preferred indoor pursuits.

He risked a look over his shoulder and saw a figure closing in on him. His lack of attention, though, caused him to tumble as suddenly the ground disappeared and he rolled down a slope, landing in a heap at the bottom.

His muscles protested at the sudden change in movement and he scrambled to his feet again, using his arms to push him forward. This time, however, his legs had been reminded of rest and began to tire. He weaved his way in and out of the denser forest, hoping the dimmer, green filtered light would provide further cover.

As the undergrowth got denser, Palmer had to start pushing his way through the greenery of fledgling trees and other taller plants. He didn't dare turn back. At least if he was slowed down, so were the men.

Eventually, though, his feet betrayed him and an outlying root led to his downfall. Shaken, he pushed himself up onto his arms and looked around. He couldn't see his pursuers, but their voices were close, heavy footfalls disturbing the twigs. He pushed himself upwards, heart still racing and spied a mound.

Deciding that hide might be a now be an option, he scurried to it, trying to keep as quiet as possible. His luck was in. The mound hid a little alcove, made of mud and rock, with a few tree roots spearing through the ceiling. It was just large enough for Palmer to tuck himself into, knees pulled up to his chin.

Footsteps came closer at an alarming pace. The men were obviously still running, unaware their prey had stopped. Soon, their breathing was becoming clear as were their voices.

"How much further?"

"'Til we get him."

"Why? We could be long gone..."

"He saw us. Which means we wouldn't be able to return to duty, 'cos you can be sure they'd find us."

"He won't be able to ID us. He was too far away."

"How can you be so sure? Besides, Keelen and... he's left us!"

"What?!"

"Count stupid. Only two of us."

The voices were no almost on top of Jimmy and he pressed himself further in, unsure how much his shoes showed. The motion pressed the damp earth, causing little droplets of water that hadn't had enough sunlight to evaporate to drip out.

Jimmy froze at the sensation. The temperature seemed to drop further and the wind seemed to pick up. Was he really going to have survived a serial killer one week only to die the next?

The footsteps ran by, passing through. Jimmy saw the backs of both men retreating into the woods. He knew it wouldn't be long until they realised they were chasing nothing. But move too soon and they'd notice his movement.

A small cough escaped his lips as his body noticed it wasn't breathing. He had to move out of here. Go back to the road, go back to Doctor Mallard and Tony and McGee and Ziva and Gibbs. There was the soft memory of the Lead Agent placing his hand on the back of his neck. It hadn't felt too comforting at the time, but now he'd do anything to feel and not be so alone.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, clinging to the idea of safety, before opening them. The only sounds were a few birds and a vague squeaking.

He hauled himself to his feet and headed back the way he came. His muscles were stiff from the cold and damp they'd encountered in the last couple of minutes, but he urged them to carry him to safety. Soon, he stumbled on his way, hurrying just short of running. He was constantly checking over his shoulder, looking for the shape of men again. He was also aware that there was a third man, besides the farmer, unaccounted for.

He went for another few minutes before there was a crack behind him. A glance around revealed nothing; perhaps it was just an animal crawling out. Nevertheless, he upped his pace to a jog, then as paranoia set in, a run.

His breathing was increasing again, having just calmed down. His heart had had no such break and he was beginning to fear it would beat out of his chest. Shivers were going up his back that someone was closing in on him. His whole body was buzzing with activity.

Palmer was unsure of his path, navigation wasn't his thing at the best of times, but he knew he was heading in the right direction. Mainly because he met the steep slope he'd previously fallen down. Somehow, from the bottom, it looked steeper, longer and more perilous than when he was falling down it; maybe it was because he didn't have a chance to think before.

Still, he didn't know which side he was hemmed in on, so up was the only option. Due to the steeper, getting down on hands and knees to compliment his feet was the only option. His dug his nails into the mud and pulled himself up, his feet causing an avalanche of earth beneath them. He clung on, though, and reached up again.

He was concentrating hard on the task of not slipping back down and soon he was about 6 foot above his start point. However, by concentrating so hard, he didn't notice the person behind him until a hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him down.

Palmer's grip on the slope was enough to pull his own weight up, but it did nothing for this extra force. Soon, he was face down on the ground at the bottom.

He rolled over and his overactive heart now decided to jump to his mouth. In front of him, training their weapons on his fallen form were the two Naval men. One was thick set, his finger firmly positioned over the trigger. The other was more twitchy, a thinner, shorter man all round. It was clear who was in charge before they even spoke.

He tried to shuffled away, but a swift kick to his head sent his mind spinning and everything fell out of focus. He could just hear the voices.

"He's just some kid! Do we have to kill him?"

"Yes. You didn't have any problem helping before, did ya? Well, this time you have a gun."

"That was necessary. This..."

"...Is necessary. You gonna do it? Soon, we're going to have all those Agents down on us 'cos of all your wild shots. Or do I need to clear up your mess again?"

"... I've already helped kill one person today. Your turn."

Jimmy's mouth went dry. This didn't bother him as somehow death by dehydration seemed very unlikely at that point. The bigger man took a few steps forward so Jimmy hear the click; it could only be a couple of feet away from Jimmy's forehead. He couldn't miss, Jimmy knew. He couldn't miss, but could he? Just this once, could Jimmy catch a break?

"Lower your weapon," came an accented cry. Jimmy peered round. The two men froze, until heavy man glanced up. He glanced down at Jimmy who didn't dare breathe yet, no matter his lungs were bursting. "I said lower it."

The heavy man's eyes weighed to odds, then slowly dropped his weapon to the ground.

"What are you doi..." started the other man, but Ziva wasn't having it.

"Both of you. Drop your weapon, step back, hands on your heads." The heavy man followed the instructions slowly, but the other man was slower. "Do it _now._ " The tone of voice eventually got through to the thin man, but instead of stepping back, he turned and began to run.

Straight into a waiting Gibbs. That man's intuition was something Jimmy was in constant awe of. The pair were quickly searched for further weapons and handcuffed. Among the items found was a knife, with blood still encrusted on the engravings on the handle. The length and shaped reminded Jimmy of the wound on Gordon's body.

Jimmy remained on the ground as he began to breathe again, gradually slowing his breath. He did conceded to propping himself up slightly so his head wasn't on the floor, but that was as far as he got. Now his body was calming down, he could feel the ants and insects creeping over his ankles and up his sleeves. However, moving further was a fairly low priority right now. He just savoured being alive.

Soon the men were led off by Ziva and Tony, both being rather rougher than Jimmy thought they needed to be. Obviously they were angry at the men for their part in the murder.

Jimmy's eyes followed them as they left, but his heart was a bit faster and so he decided to stay put. He barely noticed Gibbs sit next to him until a jacket was draped around his shoulders. He whipped his head round to face the Lead Agent, who was watching him with his piercing blue eyes. Jimmy shrank back until Gibbs spoke.

"You OK?" he said. Palmer nodded. "Ready to go back to the vehicles? We left Ducky there. He probably wants to take a look at you."

Palmer nodded again and laid his hands flat on the ground to push himself up. The action, however, cause a sharp stinging sensation to travel up his arm. He brought his right hand up to look at it and found a deep cut across the palm with splinters still attached in it. Obviously one of the trees he grabbed fought back.

The Agent dug into his deep pockets for the small emergency pack he carried and began to wrap a loose bandage over the top and secured it with tape.

"This will stop dirt getting in it." Gibbs' voice was soft and the only recollection of this tone ever being used on him was after Cobb; even then, he couldn't remember it that well. "You good to go?"

Jimmy nodded. He hadn't noticed the gash at all. What else might be wrong? He took stock of his body, but currently everything felt OK, though that could well be the mild shock that Jimmy could tell had started to set in.

He used his other hand to get up and Gibbs helped him the last little bit. The jacket slipped from his shoulders a little and Jimmy shrugged it off to give it back.

Gibbs shook his head and wrapped it back round him. "Keep it."

"'m damp," argued Jimmy.

"That's why you're keeping it. Don't worry. It's got through worse than this."

The duo made their way back walking. Jimmy had no desire to go any faster and the Agent seemed happy enough for him to set the pace while keeping him close enough to help balance him if necessary. It took a while and halfway through Gibbs got a phone call which led to a deep sigh from him.

"If you need to get there faster, I'll be fine," said Palmer, desperately hoping Gibbs would ignore the offer.

He didn't, but only so far to say, "With your navigation skills? Not explaining that one to Duck, Palmer."

Palmer let a smile ghost across his face and Gibbs smirked. It vanished quickly as a wave of dizziness hit him. He was getting more tired as the walk went on, but having held down a job and studying at the same time, he figured he could push through. Right now, things were obviously catching up, but he brushed off Gibbs' steadying hand and continued on.

They neared the edge of the trees and Jimmy blinked rapidly as the full sunlight hit him. He could make out shapes which eventually morphed into people and vehicles all milling around.

"Jimmy!" went up a cry and soon Palmer found Doctor Mallard standing next to him, wrapping a tight arm around him as he guided him forward. Jimmy allowed himself to melt into the embrace for a few seconds, but then dizziness hit him again and he grabbed Gibbs to keep himself upright.

"Easy Palmer. Duck, I think he needs to be looked over."

"Yes, yes indeed." Duck loosened his grip a tad so Jimmy could move more easily. "You gave me quite a scare, young man. Hearing gunshots and watching people chase you into a wood does me no good, I assure you. And then..."

Jimmy phased out of the voice a little, just allowing Ducky's words to flow over him. He was guided to sit on the edge of the Autopsy van, where the Doctor was able to bustle about, getting antiseptics, bandages and icepacks out.

First, there was the itching irritation of tweezers as Doctor Mallard set about removing all the larger splinters. The smaller ones he couldn't see would work their way out eventually. This was followed by the sting of the antiseptics and eventually the wound was wrapped properly and secured.

The cuts on his legs and arms were merely swabbed with the horrible stinging liquid but let to the air to heal. The rest of his body was checked, but there were only bruises from his tumbles and Ducky declared he had no concussion.

By the end of the treatment, Jimmy felt physically uncomfortable and extremely worn out. He was tilting to one side as Gibbs' jacket was remained wrapped around him, but was caught by Gibbs, who was hovering around, obviously trying to seem concerned at this point. The rest of the team were appearing and disappearing as they tied up the crime scene, McGee and Ziva returning with the body.

"Still no sign of the farmer, Boss," reported Tony near the end and Jimmy felt obliged to speak up.

"He was the one helping the..." He waved at the Navy men, sitting in the backs of the two Agency sedans. "They were obviously loading for him."

"Yep. He drove off before we could clear the field. Those two weren't too happy when they heard that. We found supplies that should be at Quantico in his barn."

"What about the third guy?"

"Third guy?" asked Gibbs.

"Third guy from the Navy. Three guys with guns and a farmer," Jimmy stated, not initially noticing Gibbs' face morph into anger.

"And you didn't think to..." Jimmy began to shiver again.

"Jethro..." Ducky interrupted with a slight warning tone. "I'd say they were pilfering from the Navy. I imagine Gordon was either involved or found out." Ducky stood back to examine Jimmy as a whole. "There. I don't think you'll need a trip to the hospital, but you most certainly aren't in a fit state to drive. Jethro, could he ride back with you? The Autopsy van isn't the most comfortable of rides and I daresay Mr Palmer could use some sleep."

Jimmy wasn't about to protest when his arm was thrown around Gibbs shoulder and he was led to the front of one of the sedans. He was a bit unnerved by his would-be murderer who was sitting in the back, but then Ziva slipped in and he relaxed.


	6. Chapter 6

He wasn't aware of the conversations outside, taking the opportunity to relax into the seat, but soon McGee appeared with keys in hand. Obviously, Jimmy was being granted a smooth ride.

The ride blurred as McGee continued on steadily, ignoring Ziva's protests that if he 'should just go a bit quicker' and that he could 'easily nip between these cars' and 'for goodness' sake will he speed up already!'. Personally, Jimmy was very glad McGee batted each comment away with a 'I have a hobby. It's called living'.

When they reach the yard, Ziva led the Lieutenant Lilliam, as they'd discovered him to be, to interrogation, whilst McGee walked down to Autopsy with Palmer.

"You gonna be alright?" the Agent asked on the way down.

"Yeah," said Jimmy, despite still feeling ready to drop. "Maybe I should spend more time on the running machine in the gym."

McGee smiled. "Well, at least this time you've learnt to run _from_ the man with the gun. I'm proud of ya." Jimmy smiled back as the elevator dinged. "You need a hand? Seeing as you've lost the use of one."

Jimmy shook his head. "Nah. I'll just get things out for the autopsy."

At this McGee frowned and followed Jimmy into the silvery cold room.

"You sure? Shouldn't you be going home? You had quite a time out there."

"I'll see what Doctor Mallard wants me to do. See if he'll let me can borrow some clean bandages. Our guests don't usually need them. You know. Seeing as they're... I'm gonna stop there." McGee outright grinned at that. "What?" It was Jimmy's turn to frown; people didn't normally find his mistaken ramblings that... funny.

"That's the most Palmer thing you've said in a while." At this, the Agent's smile fell. "Since before Cobb." Palmer tensed. "Look, we all got caught up in burying Mike and checking on EJ and... well, if you need to talk about what happened, I'm there. I'm sure Ziva would be as well. Maybe even Tony."

Palmer let a faint smile appear on his face again. Somehow, it meant more than he had imagined. Sure, the others had been there when he'd been shot at before, but it was mixed in with the investigation and, Jimmy felt, there was always the underlying desire to get Jimmy to remember. This time, however, there was something more personal about the offer.

He acknowledged the offer with a small nod for now, not really wanting to get into it all after the day he'd had. McGee saw that and let himself out fairly quietly.

Jimmy potted out a little and brought out the instruments Doctor Mallard would be needing. In normal circumstances, he'd expect to be helping with the examination, but even Jimmy could pick up on the fact that the Doctor was not happy with the way Jimmy was handling everything at the moment.

Ducky entered not long after McGee left and Jimmy jumped to help with the transfers of the body from gurney to table, from bag to metal. It was really a two person job and while Doctor Mallard could managed, he accepted the aid where he could.

Nevertheless, once completed, Ducky led Jimmy to the comfiest chair they had and ordered him to sit and wait. However much he wanted to help his assistant, the case had to come first, with the farmer still on the loose. He wasn't about to let Jimmy out of his sight, though, and was relieved when the younger man settled deeper into the seat and got ready to watch the impending autopsy, Doctor Mallard's voice drifting away into endless stories.

...NCIS...

"Is Palmer alright, McGee?" asked Ziva when he returned.

McGee paused for a second, giving the question serious thought before replying.

"I think so. Kind of shaken, but who can blame him?"

"It is true he has had a rough few weeks. I do not believe Ducky is normally so... protective over him."

"Yeah," said Tony as he entered the bullpen. "I was waiting for him and Gibbs to starting a fight. And I would have bet on Ducky winning."

"Has Palmer said anything to you about what happened?" asked Ziva, turning her attention to her newly arrived colleague.

"No, why would he have done?"

"I know you are... close. As close as Jimmy is to any of us. I thought you used to talk things through with him."

Tony paused, gulping awkwardly. "Well, yeah, on occasion. But I've been caught up with everything else."

"You mean, EJ and her departure?"

"Among other things." He shoved his gun in his drawer. "We needed to talk things through."

"Your broken heart trumped Palmer's kidnapping ordeal?" scoffed Ziva. Tony gulped again. He knew Ziva had a point. Yes, EJ had been kidnapped too, but she'd had no end of support and she was trained of the situation. "He has been there when you have wanted to talk with him, no? Surely, he must discuss his problems with you too?"

"No. It doesn't work like that." Tony looked her in the eye sharply, knowing how bad that sounded. "Look, Ducky raised his concerns over a week ago and we all brushed him off. We all should have talked to him."

This made everyone present silent. And it made Tony feel even worse. Yes, he'd shoved the blame onto everyone else, but, frankly, he'd just piled more guilt on top of his already growing mound. He saw McGee sit down heavily out the corner of his eye and Ziva cast her eyes to her desk, trying desperately not to catch anyone else's. This lasted ten seconds before the SFA decided he'd had enough.

"Ok, look, we may have screwed up and we should have done more. But when Ducky mentioned it we were out drinking for Mike Franks and if anyone deserved an evening of happy drinking in his honour, it was him. Now, though, he's gone and we've all said our goodbyes. We've got to concentrate on getting back to reality and helping those still living. Agreed?"

Ziva gave a short sharp nod, but McGee frowned even further.

"How?" he asked.

No-one had an answer before Gibbs breezed in, fresh coffee in his hand.

"Let's start by catching the other people who almost got him killed. Anyone sent for the sketch artist yet?" There were blank faces. "For Jimmy," he prompted angrily.

"Boss," said Tony, spokesman for the group. "I was thinking, faces aren't really Jimmy's thing, so..." He looked at Gibbs' stormy face. "I'm gonna call the sketch artist before he can forget this one."

This kick-started everything as Gibbs headed off to interrogation and soon the trio was hard at work trying to trace where Oliver Keelen, an arable farmer his whole life, could disappear to, and who his accomplice could be.

...NCIS...

After allowing Ducky enough time to perform at least half of an autopsy, Gibbs made his way down to the silver room. There he found the assistant dozing in the chair and sighed heavily before bending down, though not before sending an apologetic glance to Ducky.

"Palmer," he grunted as he shook the younger man's shoulder. The response was a groan. "Palmer!" This time Jimmy shot up in fright.

"I wasn't asleep," he said hurriedly, before he could really register where he was and whether he really had been asleep. Gibbs decided to let this pass.

"Sketch artist with Abby. Write up your statement whilst you're at it."

Palmer blinked slowly as the message sank in. His mind had to catch up with his ears, but it eventually got there and then translated the message into motion. His muscles were aching like no-one's business and he was relieved, if a little surprised, to find Gibbs had waited to haul him to his feet. The Agent gave him a little pat on his back to get him going.

The Autopsy door swished close behind him and Gibbs turned to the awaiting Doctor.

"I'd would have liked him to rest a little longer," complained the older man.

"Got a murderer to catch, Duck. Had to listen to a Lieutenant deny murder all the way back."

"Exactly. You already have witnesses, a great many by all accounts. Something your usual investigations are consistently lacking. Surely Mr Palmer is just icing to their statements."

Gibbs sighed heavily. "They ain't talking. Besides denying murder. Makes me wonder how they made Lieutenant, even at a Junior Grade."

"Then someone has them scared? Hmm... fear can make men do irrational things. Make them brave and yet oh so foolhardy at the same time. Yes, and I daresay this particular murder took them by surprise."

"You find something, Duck?"

"Rather what I didn't find." He picked up the dead man's hand. "No defensive wounds."

"Didn't have a chance to fight back."

"Also, he most likely knew his attacker. See these purple marks on his arm. Someone held him in a tight grip and yet he didn't struggle against it, despite the lack of any ropes or tape binding him. He was aware his opponent was strong, but didn't think he was any threat. The two Lieutenants you arrested were probably aware of this as well. They just didn't think it would escalate."

Gibbs thought for a few seconds. He hated to accuse the dead who had no chance to answer back, but in this case, the evidence suggested otherwise.

"If he wasn't scared, even a little bit, he wasn't there to confront these people. Or even spy on them."

"Alas, no. I believe Petty Officer Gordon was part of whatever dishonest activities the other two were involved in."

Gibbs nodded when his phone interrupted. Flipping it open, he answered with a short 'McGee?'. He was soon striding to the door, leaving Ducky alone, except for his forever silent guest.

...NCIS...

The search through the Lieutenants' bank records was mildly fruitful. One was spending above his means whilst the other was ferreting money away in various off-shore bank accounts which had McGee tearing his hair out as he went from bank to bank, country to country. Warrants were only half the battle.

However, the source of the money was a mystery. It was paid in with cash, using various banks, and a short piece of footage showed it was done so by the Lieutenants themselves. There was no way of telling who else might be receiving extra income.

Interviews with COs and colleagues didn't get much further. No-one knew what the men were up to and everyone had an alibi of some kind or another. Frankly, the only proof that there was anyone else involved was Jimmy's testimony; the Lieutenants were being very tight-lipped about anyone else being involved, let alone who it was.

Gibbs believed their murder denials, though. These two didn't have the wits about them to pull this off. Their careers up to this point had been clean and without violence, though the praise was inconsistent. Gibbs still wondered how they got the promotions; in his eyes they weren't Lieutenant material.

Jameson worked mainly with supplies, often with the office that Gordon worked out of. Lilliam was a little more practical, but in so far as working in the engineering corps. Both were shaking with fear before Gibbs got anywhere near them.

The Agents thus worked hard to piece together what had gone missing and thus who else could be involved. Tony and Ziva were gone already, combing Quantico for clues.

The next lead came in a much darker form than an empty box.

"Farmer was found by Metro, boss. His throat's been cut."

Gibbs sighed heavily. Obviously, this left one person from the conspiracy and if it wasn't the most dangerous.

"Come on, McGee." He grabbed his gun and badge, then sent down a call to Ducky. McGee watched as the call took longer than usual, Gibbs having to assure the Doctor that Palmer would be fine and kept busy by Abby. He hung up and the two men headed out.

...NCIS...

"I think... I think his chin was broader. No no no, not that broad. Yes! That's it."

"Wow, Palmer. This one actually looks like a man," Abby smirked.

Palmer was caught between feeling proud and disappointed at the comment. No, maybe last time he wasn't any good at the whole facial recognition thing. Or the passport recognition. Or... letter recognition. But he tried his best and last time he didn't know he'd have to recall all the details later. This time, he was more aware of the demands.

Abby clicked a couple of times to save what they had so far then spoke again.

"What about his eyes? Do you remember his eyes?" Palmer's face fell a bit.

"No... I was too far away."

"Not to worry. We'll simply move onto the next thing. Nose..." She clicked a few times and pulled up a duck's beak, attached to the centre of the face. Palmer smiled and turned to face Abby. "I personally think we could catch the guy if he looked like that. Mr Duckman... no!" She suddenly widened her eyes. "That would be Ducky."

Palmer smiled some more. "Yep. Imagine if all our suspects had distinguishing features like that. Save a lot of time."

"Oh I don't know. I had a case one time where this guy had a scar across both cheeks and the bridge of his nose. I thought that would be pretty unique and easy to find. Turned out it was part of a gang initiation. Our guy didn't even have anything to do with them, but we had every cop pulling in these burly tattooed guys. I think we had six of them here at one point."

"Bet Gibbs was pleased."

"Oh he was. See in the end, the gang didn't like the attention and made it their mission to bring the guy in. The gangboss handed him over to Gibbs personally."

Palmer smirked. The image of the man being confronted by an entire gang working _with_ the police was a little amusing.

He then sighed as he realised he should get back to the matter in hand. He wiped his glasses and replaced them.

"Ok, no duck nose. Before we end up with a load of angry ducks in interrogation." He bit his lip. "Thin. It was pinched. Kinda too small for his face, if you know what I mean." Abby clicked a few times and created the smallest possible nose the programme would allow. It could barely be seen. "Not that small," replied Jimmy indulgently.

They worked for another few minutes, just comparing and improving the likeness. Abby started to bite her bottom lip, working the courage to ask the Autopsy assistant something. They made it through to the end though before she broke.

"Are you OK? I wouldn't normally ask. Well, I would ask, 'cos that's friendly and you're my friend, Palmer, at least I hope you are. What I mean is, I wouldn't normally ask when I know the answer is probably 'no' and again that sounds bad, but I mean, you have Ducky on hand, like, all the time to talk stuff out and that means you probably don't want to discuss it more.

"Anyway, when I'm saying 'are you OK' this time, I'm saying it 'cos I've heard you aren't and that's ignoring the fact you've been running through woods chased by bad guys, which sounds super scary. When Tony brought the evidence down earlier, he was really quiet over whether you were OK, then I heard Ziva say you just need time like EJ, which reminded me you got kidnapped a couple of weeks ago and I didn't ask whether you were OK after that. And I know you probably weren't, 'cos I saw you Autopsy and I should've asked..."

"I should've apologised for that. I... I just..."

"No no no. I snuck up on a guy who had been through something traumatic and you obviously weren't OK then."

"I was fine. I was just... distracted..." Jimmy said. "It doesn't excuse... I could've hurt you."

"But you didn't. Even 'distracted', by your captor's dead body I might add, you didn't hurt me. Jimmy..." Palmer tensed at the soft, pleading voice. "You weren't fine."

"But I am now."

"Jacob at security said you'd been coming in too early. Everyone in the building has been talking about how you haven't been yourself. Some are pretty angry, 'cos they said you've put up with some crap over the years working with Gibbs and the least that could've been done was making sure you were alright after Cobb."

Jimmy froze at the name, then took a deep breath.

"I. Am. Fine. Abby," he stated through gritted teeth.

"You don't..."

"I'M FINE," he suddenly snapped. He instantly regretted it, just watching Abby's face fall. The forensic scientist then picked up the paperwork laid on her table behind her and took it through to the inner lab. "Abby..." started Jimmy when she reappeared, but was immediately cut-off.

"Go write up your statement, Palmer." She pointed through the swishing doors making her intent clear. Realising there was no arguing with her in this state, he slipped off the stool he was on and shuffled through to the small desk. Abby then switched on her music so there was no chance for conversation and resumed working on all the physical evidence from Gordon's body.


	7. Chapter 7

Jimmy tuned out the music, only slightly worried about what it was doing to his hearing. He concentrated on filling in everything he knew and saw from the day. He unconsciously began shivering when he started to describe hiding in the damp hole. He left the work with Abby, who barely acknowledged him or his apology. He went out in search of food.

The looks and glances he received as he passed through the building were disconcerting. He was glad that NCIS was down to its evening staff as he wasn't sure he could cope with anymore turning heads.

The canteen was long closed, so he entered the elevator to leave for the nearby late-night takeaway. However, before the doors closed, someone entered beside him. He gulped as he looked up to see the Director, but simply shifted over to make space for him.

The Director was silent for a few seconds as the doors closed, then took a deep breath.

"I heard what happened in the field today. You alright?"

Jimmy gulped down the urge to snap at this question, learning from his experience with Abby; doing the same to the Director would be worse.

"Yes, sir, Director. Nothing that I haven't lived through before, right?" He managed a weak smile, but Vance seemed unimpressed.

"You realise that while you're saying this that you're shaking worse than a camel in the Arctic." Jimmy hadn't realised, so didn't really know how to respond. Vance sighed and bit the bullet. He turned off the elevator; he disliked copying Gibbs, but he couldn't let Jimmy leave.

"I told Doctor Mallard I'd pencilled you in with the therapist. Now I'm hearing muttered complaints you haven't had any support. When I checked down with the Agency psychologist, they said they hadn't seen you. I'd quite like to know why."

"I... I... I just always seemed busy... or tired. Sorry, Director Vance. I'll try to see them."

"Oh no. Try is not good enough. I'm booking you in. 9 o'clock tomorrow. You aren't there, I'm sending someone to look for you. Got it?" Jimmy nodded vigorously, acting as if the whole thing was some awful threat. Vance took another deep breath. "This is to help you, Palmer."

"I'm..."

"Fine. I know. Well, then they'll see if you need help. Maybe you don't. Maybe you're just a little tired and could use some leave. But I want a professional to make that call. And not Doctor Mallard." Jimmy looked round in shock at this. Doctor Mallard was trusted by everyone with everything. Why would the Director doubt him. "He's your immediate boss, Palmer. I want you to be comfortable to discuss anything you need to."

"I am, Director Vance. I mean, I'm comfortable discussing anything with him."

"Including your family." Palmer frowned. "He was unaware your family issues when I asked. Now, I'm not saying you have to present your whole life like an open book to us. You are entitled to your privacy. However, I need to know that if you need to talk to someone about anything, you can. We deal with a lot of nasty things in this job and you see it more than most the support staff. It's only fair you get the same treatment as our other field operatives, no matter what their line."

"But they risk their lives..."

"You got kidnapped by a serial killer. How is that not risking your life?" Vance's voice was raised by this point. There seemed to be no getting through to this kid. He felt he had to be fine, no matter what he'd been through. Where on Earth did he pick up that attitude...?

Oh. Suddenly, it all clicked into place. He knew exactly where Jimmy got the notion that he could be almost killed and should bounce back with barely a time-out.

Flicking the switch again, Vance left the elevator with only a reminder of the time tomorrow. This left Jimmy thoroughly confused. Vance sounded almost angry at the end. What had he done now?

Jimmy was also left still shivering.

...NCIS...

"Here you go, Abs. Lots of lovely evidence," said Tony as he dumped the box on the table. He pulled out the Farmer's jacket that he'd been carrying and sniffed. "Phew! You'd think the cows would complain about that."

"He was an arable farmer, Tony," responded Abby, with less of her usual perkiness.

Tony frowned. "Hey, what's up? You running low on Caf-Pow?"

The forensic scientist turned from her slumped position by her desk and faced Tony. Sighing deeply, she got up and starting pacing around so fast Tony began to get dizzy as she talked.

"Have you ever failed to offer help to someone and you feel really bad, but when you try and fix it, they just get angry and shout and then you don't know what to do, 'cos if you try again, then it's probably going to lead to the same thing, but you still feel kinda guilty, but also now you're frustrated 'cos why couldn't they accept the help if they needed it so bad."

"Wow. You are not running low on Caf-Pow," observed Tony. "I take it this is about Palmer?" Abby nodded. "He's had a rough day, Abs. Maybe today wasn't time to questioning him. He's had enough people ask if he's OK just from being chased through a wood. No need to add the kidnapping into the mix."

"He had a breakdown in Autopsy. Well, a mini-breakdown," Abby admitted. "I should've have helped more then. Instead I left it with Ducky."

"Probably the wisest thing to do. Ducky would make sure he's OK. Besides, there's been so much for you to do today."

"It was over a week ago." Tony frowned. "Ducky hasn't made sure he's OK. Not properly, else this wouldn't be happening. Would it?"

Tony took a moment to process the new information. Obviously Palmer hadn't been coping and it was now surprising that Ducky hadn't been keeping a closer eye on him. If he had, how could he have missed how tired he was. But now they had a case and it couldn't wait on the Autopsy assistant and Abby's concern over him.

"He could still have been chased through the woods, Abby. No change there. And don't worry. Now Ducky will make doubly sure."

...NCIS...

It was dark and damp out on the streets. The rain had actually stopped a short while ago, but everything was still dripping. The lights of passing cars reflected in the surface of the road, glaring in the blackness.

It was still only mid-evening, but the weather had driven many people indoors and thus the sidewalk was fairly empty, the only people passing keeping their heads hunched down out of the wet and cold. They didn't notice Jimmy as he passed and consequently they didn't take note of the man striding behind him.

Jimmy headed for the diner on the corner. He'd been there several times as at lunchtime they produced the best hot baguettes. In the evening, though, they had a variety of meals ready to eat in or takeaway and they always offered him a warm greeting when he entered.

Tonight was no different as he set about ordering a burrito, full of chicken and peppers. The hot food would do a lot to warm his heart and settle his emotions. He snuck a bite before wrapping it up again to keep it hot as he made his way back to NCIS.

He didn't see the man turned, apparently observing a shop window. However, as soon as Jimmy passed he finished staring at ladies underwear and started after the young man.

The man increased the urgency in his stride. Jimmy weaved to miss a bollard and the man copied. He slowed a little as a pair of giggling women passed, each man allowing the cheerful ladies some space as they clung to each other.

Next came a lively cafe. Whilst no-one was sitting outside in the wet, lights danced on the pavements as people jostled by the door. Too public still.

Jimmy only stopped when he got to the pedestrian crossing. Near the edge of the sidewalk was not the ideal place, so the follower hung back, waiting for the last moments of green to rush across.

On the other side of the road, they finally came up to the last corner. It was now or never. One swish move, a twist to the neck and it would all be over. He started to surged forward, just short of a run. He was within striking distance when...

"Palmer! _Palmer!_ " Gibbs was shocked to see the assistant out on a night like this. This was reminiscent of the fateful night which claimed Mike's life. The torrential rain was soaking through even his thick overcoat. Jimmy's thin jacket didn't provide enough protection for this.

Grabbing the younger man by the arm, he ignored the thick set man brushing past the pair of them. Instead, he steered then into the relative protection of a shop's overhang. It was still dripping, but at least it was out of the worst of it.

"What are you doing out?" he demanded.

"What about you?" responded Jimmy, not really taking heed of who he was talking to.

"Coffee," replied Gibbs, his anger easing. "But I asked first."

"Food. The canteen was shut and I... I decided to take a break. Abby has my statement and sketch."

"I know. I know. Come on."

The SSA put an arm around the younger man and led him back through the rain. His gut was acting up a little and he wasn't about to let the other man out of his sight until they were back in the Navy Yard, coffee be damned.

Once inside the NCIS HQ Gibbs sent Palmer off to Autopsy with an order to dry off. He then turned to the security guards, informing them in no uncertain terms that Jimmy Palmer was _not_ to leave unattended. The request might have been unofficial, but there was no doubt it would be followed, especially considering the guards response.

"'Bout time someone looked out for that boy."

Gibbs frowned briefly, but brushed it off. If there was something bigger going on, Vance would have to deal with it. He, personally, was running low on caffeine and he refused to return to the bullpen until he'd ingested at least half a cup of something stronger than that muck from the Agency machine.

Striding out, he failed to notice the man skulking on the opposite side of the road. He therefore did not notice his return alone resulted in this man moving off, frustrated at the lost opportunity. Beyond that, it wasn't Gibbs' fault that he didn't notice the man move towards the diner Jimmy had gone to, since there were in opposite directions.

There, the man waited, eventually able to take advantage of a rush of women, supposedly attending a hen party, to leaf through the credit receipts impaled on a spike on the counter. Palmer's wasn't too far down and easily recognised through the order it detailed. Number memorised, the man smiled as an overambitious woman pressing herself up against him. In any normal circumstances, he might be tempted, but now he had to call in a favour of a friend who could run the number.

...NCIS...

Ducky postponed the autopsy, a decision made as soon as he saw Jimmy entering, still dripping. It was approaching 2300 anyway by this point and Gibbs had sent his own team home. The body was soaked through and a preliminary examination yielded no reason to dig deeper into the gunshot wound; Abby was already running the bullet.

Instead, he chose to rewrap Jimmy up in one of the spare coats they kept for when they did get too wet. He was happy to see the man still eating, knowing he hadn't done so across the whole day. Jimmy took little persuasion to accompany the Doctor to his car and gratefully slid into the passenger seat.

As they left, he didn't hear Ducky discovering Gibbs' orders; it didn't impede their progress, but Ducky did tell the guards to inform Gibbs that Mr Palmer was going home with him.

Hence, it was a surprise when they pulled up at his boss' house. He let out a squeak of protest. A harsh stare, worthy of Gibbs, let the younger man there would be no arguing.

As they entered the house, Jimmy breathed in the dry air and feeling of safety.

"Now come along, lad. I'll show you to your room. I've always kept one made up, just a precaution in case I need to keep an eye on any of our agents. Seeing as you've already eaten and Gibbs interrupted your earlier nap, I daresay it's the best thing for you now. Oh, that's the kitchen should you need any food or drink in the night."

They climbed one set of stairs and Ducky pointed to another room.

"That one's mine if you need me in the night. Now then..." They climbed another set and finally Ducky came to a stop. "In here. Yes, I think you should be comfortable enough. Bathroom is just down the hallway. Upstairs is the library and storage, I rarely stop off at this floor. I use the bathroom downstairs, so that one's all yours. I'll get some towels."

Jimmy sat bewildered on the bed. It was comfy and as if responding to this, a feeling of great tiredness overcame him. He kicked off his shoes and lay back, not even bothering to undress. He stared at the carved ceiling trim. He was so mesmerised he hardly noticed Doctor Mallard's return.

The older man sighed as he watched his assistant. It was like the younger man had reached the end of his tether and now just seemed to stop.

"You'll be more comfortable if you undress. At least remove your glasses; you'll bend then out of shape." He smiled at a memory. "You know, I remember, during our examination period, Tommy Robinson falling asleep on his textbooks, pressing right down on his glasses. Ha! When he awoke..." Ducky trailed off as he saw Jimmy had turned to stare at him, a glazed look in his eyes. He continued slower though, not wanting to jump topics too quickly.

"When he awoke, the shape was imprinted on his face, bright red. And the glasses themselves looked like they'd been through a mangle. Ah well. You need some sleep. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Doctor. And thanks," came the reply and Ducky smiled.

"Any time. Any time."

...NCIS...

The night didn't pass too well for Jimmy. He did strip to his boxers and undershirt, but sleep came all broken up. The unfamiliar surroundings didn't really help, as nice as it was for Doctor Mallard to offer his home. The house creaked in ways his apartment didn't and the traffic seemed heavier at this end of town. He tossed and turned for a while, but in the end when he heard Ducky moving around downstairs, he took the opportunity to prepare for another day.

It was still early when Ducky began brewing his morning cup of tea. He wanted to get into NCIS in time to provide the team with at least some information on the dead body when they came in.

His initial idea was to let Palmer sleep on and leave a breakfast/brunch ready. However, such notions were soon dispensed with when his assistant appeared in the doorway looking like he'd been a fight with a vacuum cleaner: dishevelled and slightly dirty. He realised that Jimmy had only had some time to clean up from his adventure in the woods.

"Mr Palmer, I wasn't expecting you up." He sighed. "Still, since you are, we do have time for you to have a shower."

"I'm fine, Doctor, thanks."

"You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards. No, no, people will think I've put you through an agility course. There's soap, shampoo and towels in there ready and..." He noticed Jimmy wavering, like he was running through his options. Eventually, the man spoke.

"Do you have a flannel?"

"Hmm... I have my own, but I doubt you want that old thing. Otherwise, no. My mother, bless her, used to use the things for outfits for the corgis, so they're the one thing I don't have spare. If you can manage without one..."

"I'll... pass if that's OK. Do I smell that bad?" Jimmy suddenly panicked.

"No. But you got chased through some woods. I'm surprised you wouldn't want to clean up better. Might wake you up a bit." 'Or send you to sleep again' he added silently.

"No. We should get going. Gibbs will need that farmer cut up."

Ducky observed for a few seconds before letting the matter drop, although he made a note to talk about it when they had more time. They quickly prepared hot drinks for the road and Ducky was pleased to see Jimmy eat the breakfast prepared, even if it was just toast.


	8. Chapter 8

The trip to NCIS was quick at this time of day and they did arrived before Gibbs even. The farmer didn't appear to have suffered anything beyond the fatal wound, making it clear his demise was the only goal. The autopsy was thus midway done when the Agent came down sniffing for results. At this point, Ducky pulled out the task he'd saved.

"Mr Palmer, could you take these to Abby? Tout suite."

Palmer recognised the dismissal, but had no idea that for once he was the cause of it. Gibbs, though, noticed the concerned look on his friend's face as he watched his assistant leave.

"He'll be OK, Duck," he stated in his usual fashion.

"Really? Because I don't think he slept at all last night. I heard him get up once or twice and pace. And yet this morning, this was the only thing on his mind. Wouldn't even take a shower to save time." That made Gibbs pause and it did not go unnoticed. "Jethro, what don't I know?"

"Cobb... he water-tortured the three of them."

The silence that met this announcement was almost deafening. The stony expression on Ducky's face, coupled with the sudden grief in his eyes, made Gibbs want to say something more, for once, but he knew there was nothing he could say to soften the blow.

Ducky eventually moved again, but only to make his way round to one of the chairs and sit heavily on it. He sighed once, twice and then looked Gibbs straight in the eye.

"I want to see the incident report filed for the whole thing."

"Ducky, you know it got classified."

"I am asking a very small favour considering the effects that Jimmy's dealing with. Kidnap yes, and I knew he needed to stay in hospital overnight, but torture! He is not trained, he did volunteer for it and this whole thing, this _whole_ thing, will not simply disappear because SecNav and the CIA and the Director and goodness knows who else ordered it."

Gibbs opened his mouth, but again couldn't think of a response. And Ducky was owed a favour or five by this agency so he didn't see anyone objecting too severely.

"OK, Duck. I'll see what I can do."

The Doctor was mollified at least a little. He was not used to getting angry and the few times he had been it had generally been over the mistreatment of a body. And Jimmy once or twice. But always there'd been someone to be angry at. Now, he was facing the prospect of being that angry with himself. It was an uncomfortable realisation.

"Right, well to work I suppose. I told you yesterday that Gordon was lacking defensive wounds. Well, that appears to be the only difference between him and the farmer. Keegan put up a fight. You can see the bruising and cuts to his hands, lower arms and face. Plus there were fresh bruises on the abdomen and his shin was chipped. All the wounds occurred in the last few minutes of his life."

"He fought and fought hard."

"Yes, he knew what it was going to mean if he lost."

"And how did he lose?"

"Puncture wound to his stomach. That would have led to massive internal bleeding as it ripped through his intestines and stomach. No, he wouldn't have lasted long after that."

"Didn't find a knife at the scene. Killer took it with him?"

"I would say yes, but really it's more your department to find it. All I can say was it was withdrawn messily, leading to ragged edges. I would say that Keegan was conscious for that, but no longer in a position to cause further damage to anyone but himself by struggling."

Further explanation was interrupted when a young man from admin stepped in. Trevor was obviously surprised to find not only Ducky, but the infamous Agent Gibbs as well and proceeded to 'erm' and 'ah' until both of the older men were fixing him with their most impatient stares.

"Er... Jimmy Palmer was supposed to meet with Doctor Bracco about twenty minutes ago. The Director... erm... he sent me down when he didn't show." Just his luck to be in the Director's office when the call came through. "Said if he didn't think he was serious, he should now."

Gibbs and Ducky absorbed the message before Gibbs dismissed Trevor with a jerk of his head. The nervous man beat a hasty retreat, glad that he'd completed his mission and could now get on with his day. Or hide for a few hours whilst his heart calmed down. Yeah, that sounded good.

The Agent turned to Ducky, who was just about to stand and go after Jimmy. Gibbs shook his head though.

"Don't worry, Duck. I got this."

...NCIS...

Jimmy wasn't hard to find. He was outside Abby's door, apparently working up the courage to actually enter the hallowed, if very loud, ground. When the two men saw each other, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief and presented Gibbs with the evidence, namely a few skin samples, blood and some stomach juices.

"Ah, Agent Gibbs. What a surprise. I mean, not that I'm surprised you're at work but... Anyway, I am delivering this to Abby." He raised his hands to show proof of his delivery.

"Uh huh," said Gibbs in response. "So... go deliver."

This caught Jimmy in a whirl for a second before he regained composure.

"Well, since you're going in..." He offered up the goods.

"Nope. Not signing the chain of evidence to take it five steps Palmer." The whole of Palmer's body visibly slumped as this plan failed. Gibbs had seen Abby last night and knew something was up, but she hadn't explained. Now, Palmer was avoiding her. Definitely atypical behaviour from the pair. "You might want to hurry too. You're already late for an appointment."

Jimmy's eyes widened. "Oh, Janice! I completely forgot!"

"Yeah. You seem to do doing that a lot. Care to explain why?"

"Just been busy."

"You've been in more than I have these last few weeks." Jimmy scoffed at this before Gibbs interrupted. "Looked up the weekend log."

Jimmy was silent. He felt well and truly busted. He wasn't under any illusions that his early mornings had gone undetected, but he thought the weekend work might. Realistically though, it wasn't going to be. Everyone was talking about _him,_ or so it felt, and news of his current troubles was making the rounds of the scuttlebutt.

"I just... I..."

"You need to explain it, explain it to them. That's what they're there for, unlike Ducky and me."

Jimmy was silent again, then just nodded. He hurried into the lab and dumped the stuff on the table. Abby turned and went to speak, but Jimmy cut her off.

"I'm late, Abby. So, I'll just say I'm sorry and get your signature."

Abby started to protest, but Gibbs decided that Doctor Bracco should probably set Jimmy's head on straight before he tried to mend whatever happened here. He stepped into the lab and gave Abby a pointed look.

Abby was put out for a few seconds by the actions of Gibbs, but took a deep breath and signed the clipboard as required. Once done, Jimmy began to leave, only pausing when she shouted after him:

"I'm sorry too."

There was no further preamble to her results as she embarked on a lengthy explanation about pollen on the Gordon's clothing – 'he'd been to that farm several times, Gibbs' – and Gibbs wasn't about to interrupt; heck, they all needed to get some actual work done round here.

"One more thing. The knife found on Jameson was one he'd signed out of supplies eight months ago and I found evidence he'd been using it to cut into the packaging supplies often come in on base. However, the Gordon's blood overlays all of this and has woollen hair stuck to it."

"Killer was wearing gloves."

"Precisely, so no prints from him, only more from Jameson which indicates he at least held it after the murder. If you want to take him down for the actual killing, I would say it's unlikely he killed someone with gloves on then took them off thereby imprinting new prints into the fresh blood. Also, it wasn't used in the farmer's murder, although the same type of knife was used."

"We're already looking for someone new, Abs." He sighed; everything was still pointing to the third man being the most dangerous. "OK, keep me posted." He gave her a quick kiss to the forehead, then moved out.

"Gibbs," she stopped him. "I'm not finished. The leftover supplies found in the farmhouse had Gordon's, Lilliam's, Jameson's and Keegan's fingerprints on them. All of them were in on this. However, the only indication of another person was the same woollen hairs from the same gloves."

"Right. Thanks Abs."

She smiled as he left.

His next stop was the bullpen where the team were hard at work. So far, they'd linked a few paperwork irregularities to Gordon, resulting in oversupply to Lilliam's and Jameson's areas without anyone noticing. The missing supplies included everything from army paper stocks to car parts, which as McGee pointed out could make the perpetrators an awful lot of money.

However, there was so far no evidence of another section being involved or sent over supplies. And if the farmer was the civilian contact, selling the stuff on and then embezzling some of it back through his farm before taking out the cash, there seemed to be no reason for anyone else involved.

"Maybe it was a buyer. You know, we interrupted an exchange. Makes sense considering that Gordon didn't realise how dangerous the man was." Tony tapped his chin in thought.

"No. Gordon knew the man or he would have panicked more when his arm was in such a grip."

"A regular buyer then." Ziva accepted this possibility.

"Maybe it was someone else who'd just found out about it," suggested McGee. "They wanted a cut of the action, but was refused."

"What about the farmer's records, McGee?" Gibbs asked as he strode in.

"Erm... well, I'm having a little trouble with that, Boss." Gibbs looked up from his desk to pin Tim with a glare. "That is to say there's enough evidence to indicate that there was laundering going on through the farm, but the amounts don't quite match up yet."

"So, the third person we're looking for _was_ in on it," summarised Gibbs.

"It's a possibility, but it could be that the farmer was keeping some money back for himself or there was another person involved completely," suggested McGee.

Gibbs sighed. Yep, they still didn't really know how far this operation extended and whether they had actually identified, even without names, all of the main players.

"Jimmy said the guy looked like he was Navy," Ziva reminded him. "Or at least, recently retired."

"Well, find out. And find this other person. He's out there willing to kill."

As the three agents went scurrying away, his phone rang and he held it up to his ear.

"Yeah Gibbs."

' _Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs. You seen Jimmy? He's not answering his phone.'_

"He's busy, Abs. What do you need him for?"

' _I got a ding on his face. I mean, the face he helped draw, of the third man. Not his actual face, 'cos then we'd just take a photograph and...'_

"Abby! I'm on my way down."

' _No!'_ came the quick response. ' _At least not yet. Gibbs, I got multiple dings. There's a total of 42 possible matches within the Navy, another 8 who've retired recently. I'm reducing the numbers by looking to see who's stationed nearby, but that's still leave a set of pictures for Palmer to look through.'_

"OK, Abs. I'll tell him when I see him."

Cutting the call, Gibbs sat properly at his desk and started to trawl through everything they'd found so far. Never assume.

...NCIS...

Doctor Mallard was not worried when Jimmy didn't appear. Gibbs had obviously got the message to him. What worried him more was the autopsy he was currently conducting. He usually was hesitant to delay an autopsy, but in the circumstances, he felt caring for the primary witness was the better use of his time. Now he was just about finishing up. The only thing left to do was to record the poor quality of the liver; the farmer had been a heavy drinker.

It was coming up to a mid-morning break-time, in his judgement, so he gently folded the sides back in and covered the body with some sort of respect; this man may have a hand in his assistant's close encountered with danger, but the dead should not be insulted in general.

This done, he was just brewing a pot of tea, when he heard his door swish open. Jimmy looked rather paler than before and was fidgeting all over. Doctor Mallard paused for a second before commenting.

"There you are, Mr Palmer. Just in time for a break. I'll grab some biscuits."

"Erm... no thanks, Doctor Mallard. Though thank you. I'm going to go out and get some fresh air. If that's OK?" Jimmy was rubbing his arm awkwardly and Doctor Mallard surveyed him with a critical eye.

"Very well," he eventually conceded. Dr Braco was a fine enough psychologist; he was sure she wouldn't have let her patient go if he needed immediate attention. Doctor Mallard might dabble with psychiatric evaluations, but she was a full-time professional. "I hope your talk was helpful."

Jimmy merely nodded his head before grabbing his coat and heading to the sliding doors. Ducky noted with interest that he went the longer route than exiting through the garage. It wasn't something that had been a problem before, but talking over the events might have triggered a new response. Ducky knew he must be careful he doesn't let it be a habit.

...NCIS...

The first plan had failed dramatically. The next had also been unsuccessful, but had been a useful recon exercise. He now knew the details of his target, knew what he ate, his attire. Where he worked.

His credentials would've easily got his onto the yard, but it would also have identified him. No god dealing with one problem if you make fifteen more. Instead, he used the relaxed way vans were checked upon entering. The canteen supplies truck was a regular visitor and was barely glanced over.

He positioned himself across from the main building, keeping to the shadows and avoiding as many security cameras as he could. Then, he settled in to watch the entrance.

Within two hours his luck finally paid off. Just as he was interrupted.

...NCIS...

Palmer made his way outside and immediately felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. By the end of his session, he had felt rather trapped as Janice had tried to dig deeper and deeper. As he left, NCIS suddenly seemed too small and the desire to leave peaked as he reached Autopsy.

Outside, he wandered over to the riverbank and sat down heavily on the bench. Being mid-morning, the Navy Yard was in full flow, although most people passing him by were visitors, regular workers having come in hours ago.

He stared out over the waters for a few minutes, but was wary of getting caught up in the scenery. Soon, he would have to go back in and accept the fact he had to pull himself together.

He _was_ trying really hard. It seemed such a simple ask. Stop thinking about Cobb all day, start sleeping, _take a simple shower_. Stop worrying his friends and colleagues and especially stop worrying Doctor Mallard. He'd heard jokes about how the MCRT was a family, how Gibbs looked after them, and Abby, as if they were his children. The joke didn't extend to him and Doctor Mallard. The Doctor was his boss. That was all. And however caring the man may be, Jimmy knew he shouldn't take advantage of that so much.

He had to do it by the time Breena got home in a couple of days. He wanted so badly to be a man worthy of her and right now he was doing a poor job of it. Best sort himself out and then mention everything in passing to her. Not lie, but skip the really bad parts.

He sat thinking about how to achieve this, while gazing out over the river.

...NCIS...

"Anything?" sighed Ziva as she closed a window of her computer.

"Nope. McPhone is calling Lillian's CO _yet_ again. Not that I think he'll strike gold this time either. Seriously how can these COs not know who their men hang around with? You might as well ask Clint Eastwood to describe these guys."

"They kept themselves to themselves, yes?"

"Nah if they'd done that, there wouldn't be a crime. This is deliberate concealment." The bullpen echoed with the sound of a phone being thrown down into its cradle too heavily. "Careful, McMuscle. Don't break your phone, you might need that thing."

"Stupid man."

"No help?"

"He seemed completely confused when I asked for information _not_ contained in Lillian's file. Just kept spouting off his summary report made three months ago. Kept complaining I was interrupting his leave."

"Ooo... downtime is primetime for these people, McGee."

"Well, they're currently wasting my time. Might as well as stuck with the reports."

"You have talked to people in their units, yes?"

"Yep. All say the same. The Lieutenants were private people, said they were part of a club and that's why they left base so much in the evening. Why they were busy."

"Which club?"

"Farmers' Union. Said their fathers' were part of it."

"Well, why don't we find out who else said they were going there?" asked Ziva, opening a new window ready.

"Because currently our suspect list is every member of the Navy on the East coast, plus other people besides. Lot of asking."

"Abby and Palmer are narrowing it down," she reminded them.

"Yeah, 'cos Palmer's IDing a face is always great fun."

"You are being too harsh, Tony. He seems…"

The sentence was cut short as a loud bang echoed from outside, followed by three more.

Gunshots.


	9. Chapter 9

**As I said, not a medical doctor.**

Jimmy let almost a minute pass before raising his head. There was still commotion, people were still running around, but the Marines stationed at the Navy Yard and various security members were starting to appear, shouting at everyone to run, that they had it covered. One moment later, Jimmy was on the end of one of these Marines, who was yanking him up by his arm and pushing him away, yelling something unintelligible.

Jimmy, once he regained his balance, heeded this advice. Or rather, his feet did as they scrabbled for grip. His eyes remained blurry. They took as fast as he had run yesterday, but this time he had a clearer plan for the get-go. The doors of NCIS had been flung wide open as people with guns streamed out and people without guns streamed in. Although it was further for Jimmy, he knew he wouldn't really feel safe until he was safely down in his domain of Autopsy.

As he was passing, a hand suddenly grabbed his arm. He twisted to see the concerned gaze of Tony on the other end. The silent exchange lasted less than a second before Palmer was shoved on his way, armed personnel making way for the helpless public tumbling in out of the way.

Palmer got through the initial confusion of people going every direction only to be ushered by Henry, the security guard, into the side office out of the way of the main tight crowd forming in the small lobby. The old man set the younger one down gently on one of their chairs and addressed him.

"I think you've had enough excitement this month, don't you? Particularly involving guns. Where are your glasses? In fact, never mind. Stay here."

"But I need to…"

"You don't need to do anything, Palmer. Just sit. Lock the door after I'm gone. Don't let anyone in you don't know personally, OK?" The Autopsy assistant nodded. "I have to help corral the crowd out there. Stop whatever bastard this is getting in. Stay here." He repeated this once more before leaving.

Jimmy didn't lock the door. He couldn't face the thought of some poor person reaching the door in desperation to find it shut. However, he did pick up the truncheon that was kept lying around. He'd had enough near-death experiences to know better.

There was a lot of banging, shouting and crying from outside, but no more gunshots. Jimmy half-listened, but didn't know whether he hoped to hear something or nothing. He felt like a schoolboy in the headmaster's office, trying to work out if he was in trouble from the shreds of evidence available. Eventually, the noise seemed to die down, but Jimmy remained where he was.

…NCIS…

"Gibbs. Status?" Vance demanded.

"Shooter in the Navy Yard. We've gone into lockdown, but only a few shots were fired. Likely the shooter had a target in mind."

"You mean it's likely he wasn't on a crazed suicide mission," the Director sighed. "He had a way out."

"We've got a lot of people to check, Director. He mightn't have left yet." Both men knew it was a slim chance though at best. Anyone determined to commit a crime on the Navy Yard had a plan in mind.

"OK. Your team will investigate this until further notice. I'll pass your current case along."

"Leon…" Gibbs started.

"This must take top priority, Gibbs. No arguments."

Gibbs huffed slightly, but he knew the Director was right. He also knew the shooter was probably long gone and there was no point his team wasting their time out here.

"Ziva!", he shouted and the Israeli responded. "Get the others. We'll leaving site clearance to security. I want everything at the scene bagged and tagged pronto. Get other agents to help. And send McGee upstairs. I want security footage, entry lists and visitor backgrounds. NOW!"

The Agent hurried off to do her Boss' bidding. Gibbs though looked around the abandoned area, eyes focussing on minor details.

Some child's teddy was laying in the middle of the grass. He'll have to get that back to its owner, evidence storage be damned. Round glasses had been dropped by the park bench. Their owner would also be a priority. And someone had trampled over a memorial stone, knocking it sideways in their rush. Gibbs didn't blame them, but it would have to be straightened out soon.

All in all, the scene was chaos, but it was something they could cope with if only they could catch this bastard.

He made his way, via the break room on the assumption that even he couldn't leave the Yard yet and any coffee was better than no coffee, to the bullpen. McGee was already hard at work, typing so fast Gibbs' eyes made his hands into a blur. He was just about to leave him to it when McGee called him back.

"Boss I think you'll need to see this." McGee threw it up on the plasma and Gibbs watched the moment of the shooting.

As he finished watching, Vance approached, a stern look on his face.

"Gibbs I…" he started, but got no further.

"Need my case back, Director," Gibbs informed him in no uncertain terms. He nodded towards the screen and McGee took it back.

The scene started out normally enough. People eating, chatting, walking. Palmer was on a bench in the top left cleaning his glasses. It wasn't until the tip of a barrel appeared in the bottom right-hand corner you'd know anything was wrong. As if on cue though, the moment it emerged, Palmer dropped his glasses, sighed and bent to pick them up. The same moment the first shot was fired.

Years as a sniper and memory of the Yard he was always walking through told Gibbs the line of fire and it was straight at Palmer.

Vance was quiet for a few seconds, mulling over the fact that Palmer had, once again, been shot at. He remembered the first time of so well. It was the first time he'd met Palmer and he remembered being very frustrated that the man couldn't recall something as simple as a face. It was only the clear effort the man was putting in that stopped him from snapping.

"Where's Palmer now?"

"He'll be around. He'll have headed for NCIS as soon as the immediate danger passed," stated Gibbs as if it were fact. He didn't really know where the Autopsy assistant was, but he wasn't hit by the first bullet and it was unlikely in the chaos that the assailant had a second chance.

"I'll call security. Have them send out someone to look for him?" McGee immediately picked up the phone as the Director and Lead Agent turned their back on him for a more private conversation.

"You think we need to put Palmer in protective custody?" asked Leon.

"Heck, I'm thinking of locking him in a holding cell. That way…" Gibbs was interrupted as McGee's voice rose in surprise.

" _Palmer_! What are you doing in the security office?!... OK, ok, ok. I'm sure Henry did the right thing… Well, you can come out now. We need you in the bullpen… Palmer, the threat has gone… I'm sure you can borrow…"

"Hey!" interrupted Gibbs. "Go get him."

McGee covered the mouthpiece before speaking. "Boss, he's only downstairs."

"Amid a load of people, half of whom don't have clearance to be in this building," Vance pointed out. "You go down and bring him up here safely, Agent McGee.

"Alright," said McGee before going back to Jimmy. "Hey, you still there… well… whatever. I'm coming down to get you… Just stay there for now… I know what I just said, but now I'm saying something different… Alright, I'll be couple of minutes." McGee hung up and grabbed him gun before passing his bosses to the lift.

When he got to the lobby, he found the Director was indeed right. The lobby was thronging and security was stretched to their limit trying to persuade people to wait their turn. Fear had turned into impatience and everyone was milling around waiting for Agents to take statements.

McGee pushed his way through and went round the back of the entry desk.

"Hey, you there!" went up a shout and there was a brief lull in the noise as people craned to see the latest incident. McGee turned to face the person who addressed him. "Oh, Agent McGee. Sorry it's just you." The eyes wandered away as people realised this wasn't anything major as Henry approached. "All sorts going on here. Can't be too careful."

"I understand. I'm just here to pick up Palmer. He said…"

"He was in the office. Yeah, figured it was the best place for him. He's had enough going on recently without more chaos thrown at him."

"Yeah, thanks for that. But now we need him."

"Someone die?! I thought we got away cleanly."

"We did. It's nothing like that."

Henry fell silent. At such a busy time, there was only one reason an Agent like McGee would particularly want Palmer and it wasn't because he was the gunman. The old man sighed heavily, but gestured to the door.

"I told him to lock…" But as McGee tried the door, he found it swung open freely. Palmer stood, legs set apart, ready to swing with the truncheon.

"Hey! Palmer! I told you I was coming."

"Er… Sorry McGee. Guess all the excitement got a little geared up." Palmer paused. "Can I borrow this, Henry?" The security guard knew he shouldn't, but nodded his approval. Somehow he couldn't see the young man taking the stick to anyone, no matter how much they deserved it. "I lost my glasses. Can we possibly detour to get my spares?"

"Where are they?" sighed McGee. He knew it wasn't Palmer's fault, but it was already going to be a long day.

"My locker. I've had a few near-misses with them at crime scenes, so decided to keep a spare here."

The Agent nodded and indicated that Palmer should follow him. However, likely it was that the shooter had left, McGee wasn't about to take any chances.

They made it to the bullpen where Ducky had joined the Director and Agent Gibbs and was watching the same video, his body becoming more and more taut with every passing second of it. Jimmy didn't have the sniper training, but putting all the evidence together, he could make an educated guess at who the target was.

"He was shooting at me?" He gulped heavily as the three expressions told the whole story. "Oh…"

Doctor Mallard approached the man and placed a comforting arm on his shoulder. Vance too took a step forward to speak to Palmer.

"I think it best if you remain at NCIS for the time being. I'm sure Ms Sciuto will be happy enough to lend you her futon, although use it away from the windows."

"I can't," blurted Palmer. "I mean…" He stalled as the Director of the entire agency raised his eyebrows so high as could only mean trouble. "I mean, I stayed with Doctor Mallard last night…"

"And I would offer my house again in a flash, but there is a chance he could follow us, lad. Or worse, already know my address and be waiting. NCIS is the safest place for now."

Palmer gritted his teeth in frustration. No-one seemed to be getting the point. That is, almost no-one.

"You low on insulin?" Gibbs said and all Palmer had to do is nod. "We can get more."

"It's not so easy, Jethro. A prescription medication will take time and it's getting on already. Plus, I'd rather not risk a trip to a busy hospital right now; crowded places are the hardest places to protect someone. To get the exact type and paraphernalia not for emergency use will be difficult. However, I suggest we simply send someone back to Mr Palmer's house. They can pick it up. Possibly bring some extra clothes. And you must phone Breena. Tell her to remain wherever she is for a few more days."

"But…"

"I know you don't want to worry her, but better that than the alternative."

Jimmy nodded, but it didn't solve the major problem. "My landlord got paranoid."

"A badge can help us gain access, Palmer," Gibbs reminded him.

"No, he was worried that someone might start breaking into my block of flats looking for drugs."

"So, he made you lock it up."

"In a fingerprint-encoded safe."

"Seriously?" McGee exclaimed. "Is he even allowed to demand you do that?"

"It seemed sensible enough. It could be stolen. And one of the people moving out worked at a firm and gave me a discount. I keep all-sorts in it. Money, passport, everything."

Gibb sighed, but could appreciate the sense in protecting one's belongings by non-violent means.

"We'll go after dusk. Be easier to get in and out unnoticed and by that time, they'll be enough people leaving to cover our movements."

Vance pulled out a toothpick from his pocket and began chewing in earnest. He disapproved of the whole plan, but couldn't see the choice. He left the MCRT to it and returned to his office, where, no doubt, a hundred calls would be waiting for him.

…NCIS…

It was pitch black when they finally got to Jimmy's place. Tony's was dragging his boots a bit at some point, a small protest at the fact this was all necessary. He, like everyone else involved, wasn't happy at the situation, but hadn't come up with a better option.

The clumping of boots caused a door to open and a short bald man poked his head out.

"PALMER! PALMER!"

Jimmy turned quickly. "Mr Roach? Is there a problem?"

"Damn straight there's a problem. What were you up to last night?"

"Last…"

"All that banging and crashing and throwing stuff around. Couldn't even hear me knock, could you boy? No respect for anyone else in the building. Bad enough you return all hours and use your work as an excuse. But last night…"

"I wasn't _here_ last night," Jimmy finally managed to state. He shot a panicked glance at Gibbs who already had his gun out with Tony in quick pursuit.

"You weren't? Don't tell me we had burglars? It's those damn drugs of yours. I don't care if you have a prescription, they attract trou…"

"Quiet," hissed Gibbs, rapidly losing patience with the angry little man.

He and his SFA made their way to Palmer's door. The signs of a forced entry were clear, scratches running across the lock and down the wood. Gibbs waved to Tony who stood back and launched a foot at the door.

It didn't require that much effort to open. The locks were now beyond useless, the latch the only thing keeping the door closed. That and the broken coffee table the door hit as it swung open.

It wasn't the only thing broken. In fact, it was easier to list the things which had remained in one piece. Clothes were strung up with giant rips in and furniture was stained. Even the kitchen countertop was scored and left with deep cuts running across it. Each room was the same as Gibbs and DiNozzo cleared the flat, watching where they put their feet with all the smashed crockery underfoot.

Eventually, they found Jimmy's safe, still locked firm. However, it had been picked up and thrown against the wall, leaving dents in various places.

As Gibbs called out clear, Palmer entered the remnants of his home. He was beyond any emotion at this point, just absorbing what had been done to all his belongings. He surveyed the damage and tried to calculate the cost, but he soon decided it was immeasurable as he discovered a photo of his father and him ripped into three parts, the frame smashed.

"Palmer. Palmer." He looked up to see Gibbs staring at him, compassion filling his eyes. Jimmy decided he didn't like this look. He only ever saw it when things were going wrong. He suddenly realised why the others didn't like 'nice Gibbs'; it meant everything had gone to Hell.

"My home," was all he could say. Gibbs placed a hand on his shoulder. Jimmy shivered as he remembered the same hand on his soaking back only a little over two weeks ago. His vision began to blur ever so slightly and it was then he realised he hadn't eaten.

On impulse, he went to grab the bottle of juice he always kept on his countertop, which had luckily escaped unscathed. However, a strong hand gripped his wrist firmly.

"Hey, this is now a crime scene," Gibbs reminded him.

"Sugar," was all Palmer said in response. He vaguely heard Gibbs say a few words over his shoulder, before a few cereal bars were produced from somewhere. Either a neighbour or DiNozzo, Palmer guessed. Once he felt a little better, Gibbs replaced his hand.

"Grab your insulin. Wear gloves as you do so. We're gonna have to process this place. Then go back to the Yard and get Abby to check your insulin; it's unlikely to have been tampered with…"

"Process it?" Jimmy interrupted and Gibbs knew how out of it the Autopsy assistant was. He'd never normally dare interrupt anyone, not even McGee.

"Whoever was here was probably the same person who tried to kill you." Gibbs sighed and decided this wasn't getting anywhere. "Tony! Tape the scene and start processing it. I'll call Ziva and McGee to help. When they arrive, I'll take Palmer back."

"You, Boss? Sure you don't want me…?"

Gibbs shook his head. It was bad enough he was reducing this protection detail down to one person, but the scene was a mess and they needed all hands on deck. If he was taking the risk, he was going to make sure none of his team was liable in the aftermath.

The other two Agents did appear soon after, McGee only looking slightly green as he climbed out from the van. Gibbs made sure they were set and that the irritable landlord, still obsessed with the idea of drug gangs after insulin, was successfully hounded into his own flat for the time being.


	10. Chapter 10

When Jimmy woke the next morning, it took him several moments to work out where he was. It was only when he moved and emitted a rather artificial fart sound he remembered.

He pushed himself up. He could Abby staring at her screen, as if that would help get the answers any quicker.

He recalled her whipping back and forth last night. He was sent to her almost immediately and when she cleared his insulin, he was forced to eat and then sent to bed. However, all through the night Agents kept appearing with more and more boxes from his flat. His sleep was already restless; watching his life being unpacked broken didn't help.

He decided that since it was light out now, he should probably get up. His back ached and eyes stung, but he slowly forced himself upwards, joints cricking as he went. He took a few deep breaths and went to stand in the doorway.

Its movements caused Abby to look up and pull an earphone out of her ear. It was only then he noticed her lab was silent.

"Hey! You're awake? You can go back to bed, you know. It's, like, only just gone six."

"I'd normally have to be up by this time." He shrugged. "Guess my body likes its routine."

"Well, yeah, but now it's Saturday, so it shouldn't have a routine." She hopped off her stool. "However, now you're awake, maybe you can clear some things up for me."

She tugged him over and sat him on the seat, pointed at the screen. She tapped a few keys as Jimmy blinked, his eyes getting used to the bright light still.

"Ok. First things first. Why do you have a broken exhaust pipe in your bathroom?"

"What? Oh, that's Breena's. Her friend changed the exhaust, but didn't want to keep the old one. We were going to scrap it or clean it up and make into… something. We were working on the something."

"OK, cool. 'Cos the guys got worried it was a bomb until Ziva tried to disarm it and found it didn't have any wires to disarm. Secondly, why are you keeping car battery acid in with your apple juice?"

" _What?_ "

Abby smiled. "Thought as much. Guess someone was trying to poison you as well." Jimmy frowned at this. No, that didn't make sense.

"But… then… why destroy my place? I'm hardly going to drink stuff from my destroyed flat."

"Ah ha. Because you'd die without it."

"Abby…"

"Do you remember how low your blood sugar was when you returned last night?" Jimmy shook his head. He'd let Ducky take the readings and worry about that. That probably indicated it was low though. "Very low. If you had been alone when you got back home, I imagine you'd be even more stressed and you would have started noticing the more serious side effects. And then…"

"I'd reach for the closest source of sugar. That's why I keep the apple juice out and handy." He paused. "It's what I did. And this guy realised that I'd do it?"

"It's a sensible thing to do. He knew he was going to try and shoot at you and this was a back-up plan if he missed. You'd already be on edge, people often can neglect things such as eating when stressed and all you'd need is a little push over that edge. Luckily for you, we realised you were the target and didn't let you go alone. Gibbs would never allow you take chances with things at the crime scene like that.

"Look on the bright side though. This person tried to kill you twice yesterday and failed both times. He's probably going to have to go away and come up with a new plan."

Palmer felt a wave of tiredness and he rubbed his eyes. Someone had tried to kill him. Again. This was starting to get repetitive. And it was getting more complicated. How was he supposed to trust anything when someone was spiking his drink?

Abby stood by him, eagerly beginning to click through a few other results of analysis she'd done overnight. She began to start a new analysis on some liquid drops found going from the bathroom to the kitchen when Palmer spoke up again.

"Did you find any DNA evidence?"

She swallowed. "Not yet. So far, it appears he was wearing gloves again and the only hair left behind didn't have the roots attached. So I can tell you he's been eating healthily, but not who he is." Jimmy nodded once. "Don't worry, Palmer. We'll get him. Gibbs would never let this man get away."

Jimmy nodded again, but he couldn't help doubt this. Sure, Gibbs would travel the Earth to help any of his team and woe betide anyone who tries to hurt Abby. But Jimmy. He was the awkward Autopsy Gremlin who shouldn't see sunlight. At what point would this become too much bother for him?

…NCIS…

The team were just waking up as the new day started. Gibbs had gone off for coffee and the others were emerging from their cocoons of blankets that they had crawled into when they had finally finished with Palmer's flat.

The rooms had to be totally cleared in order to assess the structural damage and _everything_ had to be catalogued. It didn't help matters when one of the Agents sent to assist them made an angry comment about being woken up just to 'clear out the Gremlin's cave.' With nerves already frayed, the Agent was quickly expelled from the flat, orders to never darken the bullpen again ringing in his ears. Ziva picked up a paperclip.

Tony watched in particular anger. Autopsy Gremlin was _his_ nickname for _his_ friend and only a select few were ever allowed to borrow it, namely the MCRT and Abby. It was like referring to McGee as Probie.

Now, he sat his desk wondering what to do next. It wasn't like there wasn't work to do here, but his mind was being torn in so many directions. The new SecNav had chosen him for the investigation and he intended to show this one he was reliable, yet he wasn't any closer to solving it. Rather like this case; the pieces just weren't appearing like they should. He knew he should be concentrating on the case in hand, but the sooner he could properly investigate the mole the hotter the leads for that would be. Particularly with the main suspect leaving.

He glanced at the photos taken of Jimmy's apartment. Nah, this one took precedence.

There was a jolt to his desk as Ziva sat heavily on his desk edge.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked in her usual direct manner. When DiNozzo didn't reply immediately, she persisted. "You look like your head was in the sky. Must be important."

"Clouds, not sky. And when I want you to know my thoughts, I'll voice them. You normally complain when I do."

Ziva smirked, but was not put off the conversation entirely.

"I hope Abby finds something. I think all of this is really wearing thin."

"Yeah, I imagine Palmer thinks so too," Tony pointed out. "Where is the cutter of the bodies anyway?"

"Down with Abby, I think. McGee, do you know?"

The pair looked round when they got no response and found McGee with his eyes firmly glued to his screen. The chances to getting his attention now were slim if it weren't for DiNozzo's vast experience in dealing with him.

"Hey!" their colleague cried as the first paper ball landed in his lap.

"Don't complain. I could've sent Ziva across to headslap you."

"What for? I'm working, unlike you two. How is that headslap worthy?"

"It's antisocial," argued DiNozzo. "And highly commendable." McGee looked up again at Tony's change in tone to see that Gibbs had entered the bullpen.

"Boss!" He stood before Gibbs even had a chance to ask his infamous 'whatcha got?'. "I was cross-referencing the times that the neighbours heard the noise with the cars that passed a local CCTV cam. Allowing a little time either side for getting in and out of Jimmy's apartment and checking which cars appeared within both arrival and departure windows…"

" _McGee_ ," Gibbs prompted impatiently.

"There were two cars that appeared in both and one of them belonged to…" He tapped his keyboard a couple of times and brought up a service record. "Lieutenant Commander Ralph Hickman. And get this. He's the one who requested Jameson's promotion and had a strong hand in Lilliam's; said he'd performed excellent work for his area."

"Bring up Palmer's sketch."

A few taps brought photo and photofit side by side. The resemblance was there, even if there were a few key details, such as eye colour lacking from the photofit.

"I think we need to have a few words with him," suggested DiNozzo seriously.

…NCIS…

The call that came an hour later burst the little bubble of pride the team had going for them and made Gibbs almost break yet another phone. The others looked at him, expecting the message to be relayed fast. It was.

"MPs who went to pick Hickman up lost him."

"Lost him?" questioned DiNozzo.

"One of them has a broken arm, the other a mild concussion. What do we have on him?"

The others quickly stood and crowded around Gibbs' desk to display the fruits of their work.

"Hickman joined straight out of college where he majored in Phys Ed. In the last twelve years, he served four tours in Afghanistan and Iraq before landing his current role within the supplies division eighteen months ago which ties in with the missing supplies we've found out about so far."

"His record is lightly sprinkled with comments about having an aggressive temper; think we could've worked that one out. Nothing which led to any formal discipline though. It probably was the reason for his slower than usual climb up the ranks considering the praise he received for his conduct on tours. Apparently, he was an asset in every one of them. Recommended for a medal once, but it never went through due to his arrest at a bar two days before it went further.

"His finances are clean from what I've found out so far, but the lawyer he hired after his arrest is known to be charge a little more than you think he could afford on his salary. I also can't find the payment, which will mean I need a warrant to find out how the lawyer was paid though. Worth it though. Got the case thrown out on a minor technicality."

Gibbs grunted. This all fitted the bill with what he imagined the killer to be like. Cold, calculating, someone known for violence but also someone good with the troops when in dangerous situations. Lilliam and Jameson trusted him because of his reputation on tours. They feared him because of his reputation off them.

"Find him," he grunted. "Ziva, DiNozzo, search his house."

…NCIS…

When McGee, on Gibbs' behalf, emailed down Hickman's photo, Abby was immediately able to pick out his profile from her list of hits. She'd taken a break as the evidence from Jimmy's home came in, but now she was glad she hadn't closed the window for it entirely.

For Jimmy's part, he merely offered a nod as soon as he saw the picture. Without any doubt, this was the man who wanted him dead so badly. Somehow seeing that he really was real and out there made the whole situation seem way too real.

Abby persuaded him to stay with here for a little while longer and thus it was through her that he heard that Hickman was still out there. There was a short conversation about his protection detail being stepped up, but he rejected the proposal for now, saying he'd just go down to the windowless Autopsy.

Abby wasn't all too happy at this, remembering, unlike Jimmy, the time when Autopsy was infiltrated. How Kate met her murderer. However, when he pointed out that there wasn't really any reason to silence him any longer, what with the evidence the MCRT was gathering, she relented.

In some ways, she was glad to ramp her music back up.

Jimmy entered Autopsy and Doctor Mallard instantly set him to work. An unrelated body had been delivered overnight, a simple case of checking that the natural death was all it seemed. Palmer was glad of the distraction. Everything was slowly moving on and the world was becoming less about him, something he was infinitely glad of.

…NCIS…

The door to Hickman's home was basic plastic and didn't look like it had been cleaned in a while. The garden was a mess and overgrown and when they entered, there were dirty dishes everywhere and a dead plant.

All in all, it looked like the home of someone who wasn't in very often, which was probably true. Between being a dedicated member of the Corps and being a less dedicated member of the Corps, Hickman didn't have time for washing up.

The two Agents followed SOP and cleared the home, but there was no evidence of him being here recently. Thus, the pair began sorting through his belongings, looking for anything which would indicate where he'd go.

"You know, I find it very curious." Ziva began. DiNozzo paused in his search through Hickman's sock drawer waiting for her to continue. She didn't.

"What's curious?"

"Why would the man go to so much effort to kill Jimmy? In some ways, that is what is getting him caught."

Tony went back to searching through the drawers, though now he was thinking deeply. It was a good question to ask when trying to find someone. Getting inside their head…

"Maybe he got cocky. After all, he killed a man in front of three witnesses, two of whom are promptly arrested, and he doesn't have the cops knocking on his door an hour later. Then again, with two suspects in custody who knows who he is, he kills the farmer and we're still not close."

"So, he thought he could get away with murder again? Every time he kills, the odds…"

"Oh come on Ziva. He wasn't thinking of odds. He wasn't thinking rationally."

"He got into the Navy Yard."

"Thinking practically doesn't mean thinking rationally."

Ziva conceded this point, even though, in her opinion, she would never allow herself to get caught up in such a futile pursuit.

They searched the house for a little longer, but it didn't turn up anything very useful. They were just about to give up when Ziva saw the corner of the living room carpet was ever so slightly not flat. She was immediately on edge and began pulling the small table and comfy chair away from the corner.

Tony soon joined in the effort and it wasn't long before they were pulling up the very loose carpet. Underneath, as suspected, the floorboards were completely unfixed, with handy dents making easy to pull up.

However, what lay beneath them surprised both experienced agents.


	11. Chapter 11

Once the floorboards were peeled back, Gibbs and McGee had arrived. It took only a little longer for McGee to begin glancing at the garden with such a frequency that eventually Gibbs snapped and demanded McGee tell him what was wrong.

As soon as McGee mentioned the plants weren't growing as they should, extra agents were called to help them dig over the entire garden.

Of the three bodies found, only one had fingerprints worth testing; from that, they deduced Petty Officer Michael Gears was the most recently killed.

On the others, the fingerprints were far to decomposed to be of any use. In fact, all the bodies were in such a poor state, Jimmy was glad they were tightly wrapped in layer of plastic, as terrible as it was for them. The cause of death was going to be harder to deduce than the last few bodies they'd had through Autopsy, though, compounded by the fact that the plastic had started to degrade on all of them and was hard to peel off.

As Ducky pointed out, it wouldn't have been much longer before the tell-tale smells would have begun seeping through on the oldest.

Abby called them late in the afternoon having got a DNA match. It always felt better when they had a name to go with a body. Like somehow it made it less impersonal to cut up a stranger if you could recognise them as Commander Joel Harricks. The third body remained anonymous.

It was almost six o'clock when Gibbs finally made his appearance. This was far later than usual; normally, the man was impatient for results, barely giving them time to crack a couple of ribs sometimes. This time, though, it seems cause of death wasn't of such importance.

"Well, now Jethro. Have you anything to say about the poor Commander here? Or any of the others?" Ducky began.

Gibbs nodded. "He was a good man. So was Gears. Wouldn't be surprised if the third one turns out to be as well."

"Ah, we are now dealing with innocent victims."

"Harricks was engaged to a woman who had previously refused Hickman. At least, according to her friend who remembered they'd met in a club once. She hasn't been seen since Harricks disappeared. They thought the pair had eloped."

"Ah, we have at least one more body to expect? Provided it's found."

"Gears had served under Hickman before. Joker. Mocked his superior officer several times. Mocked everyone."

"But not everyone had his sense of humour."

"McGee thinks that 3 years went past between the last time the two met and his death. Analyse Duck."

The order itself was not a surprise, but the tight, demanding tone was. Doctor Mallard considered his response carefully, but eventually decided to be safe.

"Mr Palmer, can you take those final samples up to Abby please?"

Normally, Palmer would've jumped to it, but by this time he was wearing a little thin. His poor night was catching up with him and somehow Ducky's endless story-telling, rather than being entertaining, had made him increasingly lethargic as it buzzed along in the background. He realised that was why Doctor Mallard was sending him out: to protect him from whatever startling revelations Ducky had about the man's mind.

Even as he went to obey the Doctor's request, he set his face into a hard expression, indicating that he would like to be kept in the loop about what he, specifically was facing. Gibbs acknowledged this with a slight jerk of the head, encouraging him to just go, while Doctor Mallard didn't register it at all.

"Duck…" Gibbs began, but the Doctor cut him off.

"I just feel that Jimmy shouldn't be exposed to the depths of his would-be murderer's mind." The older man took off his gloves and went around the table. "Harricks was killed by a knife wound. The final body, although I have barely started on her, seems to have be beaten to death judging by her broken bones. This is someone who prefers to be up-close to his victims when they die. Hands-on, as it were."

"He tried to shoot Jimmy."

"Oh, he's practical. Yes, Gears was shot. I imagine the younger, fitter man was too much of a risk to take head-on. But shot from not far away. Likewise Jimmy was within the Navy Yard when he was shot at. The one place he should be safest threatened. It is a personal message, even if it didn't work."

"This help us find him?"

Ducky blinked several times, as if contemplating the weight of his next statement. However, he knew Gibbs would be impatient so pressed on once he made the sentence.

"No. He is jealous, cold, calculating, proud, cocky almost, and very vengeful. But I believe the greatest threat stems from his patience. He waited years to kill Gears. I do not believe this was simply a case of waiting for an opportunity. I believe he intentionally waited so long as to make sure no-one would link him to the crime.

"His repeated attempts to kill Jimmy were initially out of desire to remain anonymous. However, that reason is now redundant. Now, Jimmy is merely someone else to exact revenge upon, which gives him time. Something, I might add, he did not think he had before."

"No more careless slip-ups."

"Oh, he is human and to err is human. Just maybe not as many. However, he is not divine and is unlikely to forgive."

Gibbs stayed for a few more minutes. It had been hectic upstairs all day as they tried their best to link each of the victims to Hickman. All the team had been out interviewing various friends, families and COs trying to find reason in the deaths. The answers had not been very satisfactory, but only insofar that they were so petty.

They were also working on warrants for the previous homes that Hickman had lived in. One resident of a former house was already planning on moving out due to strange smells. Gibbs reckoned the woman was going to move out anyway by the time they'd been through there.

The one thing they'd had no progress with, though, was Hickman's current whereabouts. The BOLO had returned nothing. His lawyer was stalling over the account details so he had money. The only thing they could say was it was unlikely Hickman had the wherewithal to find a way out the country. Fake passports still had his image on.

Autopsy was so peaceful in comparison. Even with the grim reminders currently lying out on the slab, it was a place of contemplation.

Eventually, however, Gibbs admitted that he would be more help upstairs and reluctantly left. As he stood in the lift, though, he recalled Jimmy's face as he left. The young man was starting to display a world-weariness that Gibbs abhorred seeing on other people, especially people who shouldn't be in the firing line.

If they didn't catch the man soon, it would wear Palmer down. They had to catch him.

...NCIS…

Unfortunately, not even Leroy Jethro Gibbs could stare at the universe and bend it to his will. No-one knew this better than he did. Four days passed without a single new clue, a single sighting. Hickman had gone underground.

It didn't stop bodies surfacing though. The team was stretched thin as the raced between old houses and haunts of Hickman. Four bodies at his previous residences, two at a fishing site he apparently went to a lot whilst there. The worst was a young woman found under his Uncle's garden. The shade of green that Uncle went as they pulled up the almost dismembered remains only got worse when Ducky declared she was alive for most the cutting.

They later discovered she'd stood him up on a first date when her car broke down.

The only positive point was when the lawyer finally released the account details. McGee was quick to trace it through to an off-shore account. He also confirmed the cash deposits made into it matched up with the shortfall he'd identified from the farmer's accounts. No-one else was involved. There was only one suspect.

Ducky's psych profile was extended as information about Hickman came in. A Navy brat, he was constantly moving from one place to another. As a result, he learnt how to connect with other people quickly, but avoided making any in-depth relationships.

The push which made this attitude dangerous came when he was sixteen. Within a year, his mother lost his job, his father was injured on active duty and their house caught fire from a faulty plug. The feeling of powerlessness would have overwhelmed him. He wanted control so desperately, over money, over people, over his own fate.

As much as he hated delving into the serial killer's mind, however, he still preferred over the Autopsies, not just because of the innocent victims affected, but also because of the effect it was having on his assistant.

Jimmy had effectively moved in with him for the foreseeable future. This served two purposes; firstly, he was safer there than trying to return to his destroyed home, but secondly, and in Ducky's opinion, most importantly, he could keep an eye of the lad.

Jimmy still hadn't showered, instead going through washcloths at a rapid rate. Every morning, he seemed to come down more tired than the night before and Doctor Mallard had to order him twice to take a nap midday.

Most worryingly, though, was absentmindedness. In most, an unfortunate quirk, here it led to him forgetting to eat and it was only through the Doctor's careful observations that his blood sugar levels remained balanced. It's like he'd he'd hit an impasse and couldn't quite work out how to get on with life in the meantime. He'd stalled.

During the Autopsies which had became regular as the team brought more and more bodies back, his silence was ever more clear. It was true you never knew what you had until it was gone. In this case, Ducky recalled being irritated at Jimmy interrupting his stories sometimes. Now, he missed it dearly as he watched the younger man weigh a kidney in silence as he contemplated how this could be him soon.

The only time Jimmy seemed to perk up was on the phone to his fiancé. She'd been persuaded to take some work in a mortuary of a friend of her father's. It meant she was kept busy and still earning, but also meant the couple hadn't seen each other in coming up to month. She was taking it well, however, in no small part, Ducky privately thought, to the fact that when calling Jimmy sounded just as he always did. It was only because the Doctor could see him that he knew this enthusiasm went no further. It was then he realised how Palmer was able to conceal an affair so easily from the usually observable man.

...NCIS...

Eventually, a week later, the inevitable happened, though, and another case came up. By this point, all the other teams were working on their own projects and Director Vance had no choice but to declare the whole matter a cold case. The BOLO for Hickman was still out, but the rest had to move on.

In some ways, Jimmy was relieved. While his life was in imminent danger, he couldn't have a moment to himself and he just couldn't get back to normal. Now, while the threat on his life hadn't actually gone away per say, everyone had something better to do than worry about him.

The new body occupying Autopsy was a female Marine. She'd been stabbed and left to die in a street in the middle of the night. Ducky concluded quickly enough that her death was slow and if help had been available it was unlikely she'd have died.

This seemed to put Gibbs in an even worse mood, that the woman was so alone as she watched herself bleed out. It did nothing to improve the mood in the bullpen either, which was already seriously strained. It didn't help that Tony had been disappearing off again and clearly keeping new secrets from the others. As if they weren't investigators themselves and couldn't tell something was up.

The only place with some semblance of normality was, as ever, Abby's lab. The music was as loud as before, Major Mass Spec as pampered as always and the number of Caf-Pows! littering the place was as numerous as usual. All the Agents popped down on a regular basis to check for evidence and soak up the energy.

The most frequent visitor was McGee. There was something about this case which was niggling at his brain, had been since about an hour in. They were missing something, he was missing something…

They were sent home at 2200, with orders to be fresh the next day. With the best intentions, McGee followed these directions, making it home and even getting as far as climbing into bed. His mind was not co-operating however, spinning ideas and evidence around in a giant stew pot.

After two hours, the thoughts took a more solid shape and he had the urge to test his theory right then and there. Decision made, he stopped only long enough to change and brew a fresh cup of coffee before heading in.

McGee did occasionally come in the middle of the night, whenever a case required it, but in general he prefered to either stay overnight completely or, more normally, arrive a bit earlier than the others so he could get work done without distractions, especially from Tony. Thus, it had been a while since he'd turned up at 2am.

He entered the building as normal and was just about to breeze through security when he noticed who was sitting in the security office. Moving closer to the open door alerted Henry, who stood and quickly exited the small room closing the door behind him.

"What's Palmer doing here?" hissed McGee accusingly. Whatever was going on was not something McGee approved of. They'd all seen how tired Jimmy had been.

The older man, though, simply stared back, folding his arms until he reminded McGee of his old elementary principal who while kindly enough could intimidate anyone if needed. McGee felt he was being assessed and judged until Henry finally decided to answer.

"He comes here at night to talk about things when he can't sleep."

"Does Ducky know about this?" There was another pause, but this time Henry seemed to be wary that McGee wouldn't like his answer.

"I don't think so. He arrives here just after midnight usually. I guess Ducky's asleep. Leaves just before 4. Doubt the old Doctor's caught on yet." McGee went to speak, but Henry continued. "Look, he just needs to talk and to someone other than the Agency shrink. Bless her, she does her best, but everyone knows she has to report anything serious."

"He could talk to Ducky."

"His boss? Would you talk to Gibbs about _your_ personal problems?"

McGee wavered here. He knew Tony did and Ziva to some extent as well. But him personally, no. Everything seemed so… petty compared to Tony's undercover issues and Ziva's fatherly problems. His own father was a bastard, but at no point had he been left to die.

He realised, though, that he had his own coping mechanisms. Even if he didn't write as much, he had Jethro and reading and computer games. And he knew he had them. He realised Jimmy hadn't had time to form his own distractions yet, that he was stuck where he was.

He sighed. "Look, I realise he might want to, but he's already short on sleep and… I mean, there's a serial killer after him. Does his protection detail know he's here?"

"You mean that bunch of probies?" scoffed Henry. "I know he isn't the Director, but I also know the Agents he's getting just aren't taking the thing seriously. I heard Jasper say he felt the whole thing was an 'elaborate hazing attempt'."

McGee grimaced. Agent Jasper had far too many ideas above his station as it was, even going as far as hinting he could soon replace McGee on the MCRT because he was 'better than any geek'. McGee knew this was nonsense, but the mindset was real.

"That fact he's here shows they don't care enough. Well, some of us do."

McGee sighed again. He really didn't know what to do. He couldn't let this pass, he had to tell someone, but waking up people in the middle of the night wasn't going to help. Besides, he hadn't come in for this.

"I'll take him up to the bullpen. I've got a few tasks which will keep him busy 'til morning."

"You gonna inform the protection detail? They'll notice if he stays." It was McGee's turn to pause, eventually shaking his head.

"Nah. Let them panic for a bit. Teach them for ignoring our Autopsy Gremlin."


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the delay. Work got crazy.**

The sun was just rising when Agent Jasper awoke and stretched. Fresh out of FLETC only 7 months ago, he'd been a floating Agent until someone could recognise his potential and assign him somewhere permanently. Possibly with a promotion.

This current job, however, was boring. The only perk was that he could basically sleep through most his shift and would still get the entire day off. The whole assignment was otherwise a waste of his time. After all, who'd target the Autopsy assistant? That serial killer will have forgotten his name by now.

He went to the kitchen for some coffee Ducky kept for visitors, as he was, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had enough time to wake up properly before Ducky would be down, so there was no rush.

Cup in hand, he decided to take a tour of the house, checking on everyone as he was meant to do every half hour. The downstairs was empty, of course, and the first floor still only contained Ducky asleep in his bed. It was when he got to the second floor problems arose.

Jimmy's door was ajar and a quick look around indicated the bed, unmade, was quite cold. The windows were still fastened shut though, so Jasper figured Palmer was merely elsewhere. He set his cup down, though.

The bathroom on that floor was empty, as were the other rooms. The top floor showed no-one either and by this point Jasper was ever-so-slightly panicking.

He re-toured the ground floor and the next one, then checked the whole building again. By this point, he could hear Ducky moving around in his room and Jasper's last hope of keeping this quiet were fading. Losing his protectee was not going to look good.

As predicted, Ducky emerged two minutes later and greeted the worried man warmly. Jasper's lack of response, though, caught his attention and the Doctor paused.

"Is everything OK?"

Jasper gulped. "Erm… Have you seen Palmer?"

The silence stretched out for several seconds.

"You mean, he's not in my house?" Jasper shook his head. "Do you know how long he's been missing?" Jasper was silent. "Well, you must have _some_ idea! You've been up checking on him throughout the night."

"His bed's cold. So, probably he left a while ago…"

" _Left or kidnapped?_ For goodness' sake, there's a serial killer after him! You think you're here just to have a look around. Of all the incompetent, idiotic..."

Ducky took a second to catch his breath. Getting angry would have to wait. Right now, all that mattered was finding Jimmy.

" _You are his protection detail. You should know where he is."_ Jasper backed up against the wall as the hissing, spitting Doctor strode towards him.

"Erm… I'll phone dispatch, get out a BOLO."

"YOU HAVEN'T DONE THAT YET? Why on Earth not? You just going to stand there and hope?" Jasper didn't move. "GO!" bawled the Doctor.

That got the younger man moving, tugging out his phone as he went. Ducky returned to his bedroom and dialled a different number.

"Jethro! Jimmy's gone… I don't know… That fool of a Jasper doesn't know… As soon as possible… Oh rest assured, if we don't find Jimmy, I know I'll have at least one body on my table. Jasper's!"

...NCIS…

Gibbs arrived with a squeal of brakes. Not only was he concerned about Jimmy, but he was also worried that he'd have to arrest Ducky for murder. Or help him out the country. Yeah, that sounded a better plan.

Upon seeing the quivering Probie, irate Doctor and empty guest room, Gibbs phoned Tony, ordering him to call the others and get over to Ducky's to process the scene. Following this, he snapped on some gloves.

However, he'd barely got started when his phone rang. Pulling it out angrily, he near shouted into the mouthpiece.

"What?... WHAT!... Since when?" Gibbs shut the phone and pulled off his gloves. Returning to the kitchen, he found Ducky and Jasper waiting.

"Any news, Jethro?"

"Yep. They found him." Gibbs turned his attention to Jasper. "Agent Jasper, care to explain why you didn't notice your charge going to NCIS at _midnight_?"

...NCIS...

McGee put his phone down and glanced across to Jimmy who was currently occupying Tony's seat, completely absorbed in the files McGee had sent him several hours ago. He contemplated letting Jimmy know his cover was blown, but he hated it when his thought process was interrupted and wasn't about to do the same to Jimmy.

They'd had a quick talk about the responsibilities of having a protection detail and how it was unwise to leave without them, but McGee recognised that the other man was going to get an earful later on so let the matter drop quite quickly. Henry had let the younger man leave his care to help McGee in his work, realising it was better if Jimmy was kept busy, but had popped up every so often to check that McGee was playing nicely with his new friend.

McGee began collating his work, knowing that Gibbs was now going to be here a lot sooner than he thought and as soon as he dealt with Jimmy, he'd want an explanation about why McGee was here all night.

Sure enough, half an hour later Gibbs emerged from the elevator, shepherding a very pale looking Jasper and with a rather angry looking Ducky in his wake. Henry brought up the rear. It was likely Tony and Ziva weren't far behind, although both was still at home when Tony had called.

Luckily, the early hour meant there were still relatively few people around as Ducky suddenly sped up and charged over to his assistant.

"WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU THINKING, MR PALMER?" Jimmy looked up, startled, completely unaware the Doctor was there until that point. McGee winced in sympathy as Ducky continued in the loudest voice he'd ever heard him use. "DUCKING YOUR PROTECTION DETAIL IS NOT A SENSIBLE OR CLEVER THING TO DO! YOU COULD'VE BEEN KILLED!"

Ducky took a deep breath as he looked properly at his assistant for the first time since coming in. Jimmy looked exhausted, large bags decorating his face and his mouth curved gently downwards. His hair was more wild than usual and his glasses weren't as far up his nose as he normally had them pushed.

However, his eyes were wide and awake, even if they had a slightly glassy quality to them. It didn't take much for Ducky to conclude that even if he put the man to bed instantly, sleep wouldn't be coming.

"I… I… Doctor, I was with Henry. Figured he'd be fairly secure by being, y'know, security…" he trailed off as he saw the aggrieved expression on his boss' face.

"And on the journey here?" Jimmy gulped, but remained silent. OK, it wasn't the cleverest thing to be done, but at the time, it all made sense.

"And back," supplied Henry, willing to get the whole story out now. It worked as everyone turned to him, although Jimmy displayed a rather betrayed look. "He's been coming here the last week and a half, just normally returns before he's noticed."

Ducky and Jimmy both froze, although with different reasons. Gibbs, though, pivoted slowly to send his trademark glare towards Jasper, who was slowly trying to melt into the floor.

"I think we'd better discuss this with the Director. Who else is on night-shift on Jimmy's detail?"

"Agent Risguard," said McGee matter-of-factly. He'd checked earlier.

"Bring him in. Now." Jasper was now practically whimpering as Gibbs placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed none-too-gently towards the stairs. "Duck, see to Palmer. I'm calling in Vance."

By this point, Doctor Mallard had had time to process the news that his ward had been sneaking out from under him every night. He felt anger, but it was buried under concern, guilt and a general protectiveness that could only stemmed from caring about someone. Jimmy turned the chair to face him, but his eyes were now fixed on the floor.

Ducky sighed and waved Henry over, knowing he needed back-up from the person Jimmy suddenly seemed to trust the most. The two men crouched down, wanting to make it clear this wasn't a lecture, only help. Both men ignored McGee as he slipped out.

"Jimmy, I fear you've spent too much time around the MCRT. They can't take protection details seriously either. But you must understand, someone out there wants to kill you out of spite and has shown himself more than capable. And unlike the MCRT, you aren't armed."

"I feel safe in the car."

"And before you get in? And as you get out? Do you even check the backseat or lock the doors in case you come to traffic lights?" Jimmy was silent. "Jimmy, you have no defense against this man and there are many people counting on you to stay alive. Not least myself and Breena." Jimmy winced and Ducky knew he'd hit the right chord. "No more ducking the detail." Jimmy then opened his mouth, but Henry beat him to it.

"They were asleep." Ducky looked round sharply at the man who had suddenly undermined his case. "So, they ain't much use, right?" Jimmy nodded. "See, for that, I'll have their hides. However, Ducky here's right. You're in danger. Don't worry if they don't realise it. _You_ got to realise it. Then, you tell one of us and we'll get someone new."

Jimmy nodded and Ducky tried not to show his relief that the first problem was settled, as least for now. But then came the next question and he had a feeling he was the only one who didn't know the answer.

"Why are you coming here at night? Is it just lack of sleep?"

Jimmy glanced across to Henry, but this time the old guard offered no help other than an encouraging smile. He looked back to Ducky and began.

"It's the not the lack of sleep. It's like when we have a rush of cases and I have exams. It's… it's the nightmares. First Cobb, now Hickman. It's all getting mixed up and… I just wanted a distraction and Henry was willing to talk."

"What about Janice?" This time it was the violence with which Jimmy shook his head that shocked him. "Jimmy? Are you having problems with Dr Bracco?" There was a pause at which point Henry decided to dive in to help. Right now he knew the root of the problem would be the cause of it never being mentioned.

"I believe he was having issues with her pace. Too direct."

"She… You can tell she's on the clock. She just charges right to the heart of what she thinks is the problem. Or she's pushing for a particular response and you suddenly feel like there's a right answer and I never seem to know what it is. I mean, if I knew, I could solve it myself, right? I mean, everyone else says she's good. I just… I feel like the whole room is cornering me."

"Ah… Jimmy. I fear you are suffering the aftereffects of everyone else. Dr Bracco is a very experienced Doctor, and indeed she is a very good one. But she's used to trying to get through sessions so impatient field agents can get back to their work. Often they're riding the desk until they're cleared by her and in some cases that can be very limiting for them."

"I want to be cleared quickly. I mean, this is ridiculous. The others have been kidnapped and shot at and eaten by dogs. They never went through this."

"I think you'd be surprised. You forget the number of times you leave Autopsy so they can talk to me, often at a slower pace. I've never thanked you for doing that, but you always seem to know it's important."

Jimmy was silent, dropping his eyes back down. Henry closed his eyes briefly. This is what he feared. He tugged Ducky back gently and the Doctor, while confused, followed without protest. They moved far enough to be out of earshot of Jimmy before he whispered, as kindly as he possibly could.

"You can't keep suggesting he can talk to you." Ducky opened his mouth, but Henry wasn't done. "You're his boss. Try and be inviting. Try and be fatherly even. But don't expect him to open up completely. If he think he's not good enough, why tell you?"

Ducky sighed and looked over Palmer who was glancing over to Tony's computer like he'd rather being doing that work than having this conversation. Obviously a heart to heart with the Doctor was not welcome.

Decision made, Ducky went over to his assistant who looked up.

"We'll find someone for you to start fresh with, inform them you need a more relaxed setting than provided by our psychology and wellbeing services. Now, why don't you show me what Timothy's got you doing?"

Palmer brightened up visibly at the opportunity to escape. He quickly brought up the files he'd been looking at. Soon, Ducky was thoroughly impressed by the diligence that went into this discovery.

...NCIS…

Vance was not happy to be called early. He'd have shortly be in anyway, but it was the principle. He had few enough hours in bed sometimes and over the last month, they'd dwindled to even less.

He also wasn't happy to find that Jimmy Palmer was at the root of the cause. He was used to the MCRT rousing him at all hours as they walked over anyone who tried to stop them getting the truth. However, he'd always assumed that Jimmy's one dice with death would prove enough for him.

Finally, he also wasn't happy to see the look Henry gave him as he entered. The old guard had moved to nights after the shooting following an extra long shift from which he'd yet to bounce back to normal hours from. The man wasn't a gossip, per say, but Vance knew that Jimmy would once more dominate conversations and lead to more complaints for Vance.

Reaching the bullpen, he saw Ducky and Jimmy hard at work over DiNozzo's computer. This was unusual, but Ducky's glance up and subtle wave on kept the Director moving.

The entrance to his office was empty, Pamela not due in for another half hour. Trust Gibbs to simply wait in his office. This is why he couldn't leave sensitive documents out. Not that he would anyway.

Waiting inside was indeed Gibbs, closely flanked by DiNozzo and David, of course. What was curious was Agents Jasper and Risguard also standing there, looking incredibly nervous. Vance paused for a second before shutting his door.

"I take it something happened last night with Palmer." It was a statement.

"Try every night since the shooting. Either of you care to explain why you were sleeping during a protection detail?" asked Gibbs pointedly.

Risguard hung his head in shame, but Jasper had had more time to build some courage.

"He's fine. I mean, if he can go back and forth at night, there really was no need for us after all."

The silence was deafening. The whole room seemed to drop several degrees as Risguard stared at his now ex-friend incredulously.

Vance himself was frozen for several seconds before he could work out quite what to do. He looked at Gibbs, meeting his eyes to reassure the other man he had this.

"Gibbs," he then said, dangerously calmly. "I believe your team have a murderer to catch."

Gibbs nodded and gestured for his team to follow him out.

As soon as the door closed, Vance straightened even more.

The remaining agents gulped.

...NCIS…

"Palmer, whatcha got?"

The change in tone was so dramatic that even Ducky was caught slightly off-guard.

"Come on, you and McGee were here half the night. Show me it was worth it."

Palmer gulped, not really knowing where to begin until McGee grabbed the remote and brought up the victim's profile.

"Erm… McGee noticed she has no listed family, she enrolled after college and her bank account doesn't any suspicious amounts of money in."

"Sounds pretty normal to me."

"Well, it would be, until you realise she went to a really good colleges. Without any scholarship or parental help,she should be in debt now."

"But she isn't."

"No parents," said McGee, deciding to speed things up for Gibbs sake. "I found evidence to show she was estranged from her parents, but someone paid for her college. We went through her year flagging several people in similar situations. Three examples so far, all with no debt, but no way of financing it."

Gibbs nodded, studying the four profiles now on screen.

"Call the college. Find how they paid."

"Will do, Boss. Just waiting for the office to open." Gibbs sent him a look. "I'll… see if anyone's there now."

It was a slightly hopeless task, the time only just having gone seven. It was only an hour since Ducky's panicked phone call, but Gibbs felt like he'd been going full pace already and he didn't particularly want to stop. He had a vague idea he'd be persuaded to stay at Ducky's tonight as it was.

"Ziva, DiNozzo. Track down these other students, then go interview them. I want to know how they thought their debts were being written off." He turned to the next group of people. "Palmer, get some sleep. Duck…" Ducky raised his eyebrow and Gibbs realised that issuing an order to the ME probably wouldn't be necessary. "I'm going for coffee," he sighed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Again with the work delays. Sorry. And yes, there is a hairdressers like that where I live.  
**

By mid-morning, the picture was looking a little bleaker. McGee finally got through to the college finance department and found people who paid via the same account as PFC Willows. However, out of the now six people of interest, three were dead by various means, two were missing and one was apparently living in a remote house in Oklahoma. Rather than trek out there, Tony had persuaded Gibbs to send some local LEOs to pick the man up as a person of interest.

The bodies that had been found were being sent to Autopsy as fast as possible and in the meantime, McGee was hurriedly typing and calling various institutions as he tried to track down the owner's of 'Education4All', the name of the account holder. It seemed to be a charity, although it had closed a couple of years back.

Tony and Ziva had been tasked with trying to find other colleges who had accepted payments from them. Tony was beginning to wish he'd been able to go to Oklahoma as he trawled through the many documents the bank had supplied them with, all detailing the incomes and outgoings of the charity.

By mid-afternoon, just as Tony was able to take a break, Ziva stood up, paper in hand.

"Gibbs, I have three names from Waverly."

"Waverly?" At that, McGee's head popped up from whichever world he was in. Sarah might no longer be at the college, but they were looking at ex-students after all.

"Not your sister. After all, I'm sure she had the support of your parents and you." McGee nodded, returning to his screen. "One of the students is a now a financial advisor still in the city, another a… barman at a hairdressers in Shaw."

"Gimmee that," said Tony, snatching the paper from Ziva's hand. "Barman at a hairdressers," he scoffed as he raised the paper to read it. "He's a…" Tony looked up at Gibbs, a more serious look on his face. "He's a barman at a hairdressers in Shaw, Boss."

Ziva grabbed the paper back.

"The third person, a Melanie Sykes, cannot be traced. I believe she has fallen off the sonar."

There was a pause as Tony withheld correcting her; after all, his last attempt hadn't gone so well. Eventually, McGee decided to take his chance.

"Radar."

"Whichever, those other two could be in danger," Gibbs reminded them all. "DiNozzo, Ziva, go pick them up."

The two agents hurriedly went to pick up their bags from their desks, although as they were leaving the conversation strayed from work again.

"Hey, Ziva, does your hairdresser serve you beer while having your hair done. 'Cos if she does, I need a new hairdresser."

...NCIS…

The financial manager was in the middle of an important meeting, but a flash of the badges got the pair past the poor secretary who then worried about the company she'd just joined. Extracting the man from the meeting room proved harder as he insisted on finishing the discussion.

"That man could take our company to the next level, I have been waiting for a meeting with him for _months_ and he's flying back to Britain tomorrow. No, I can't just go."

"Well, I guess he should be very pleased that you value him more than your own life. You need to go into protection."

Unfortunately, without the man being a witness or anything similar, they couldn't yet force him to accept their help. It was just annoying when people seemed to think that the small things in life outweighed the actual living part. In the end, Ziva settled for calling a local LEO in who would escorted the idiotic man back to NCIS. Tony wasn't particularly happy, but at least there was now a gun protecting the civilian and Tony and Ziva could concentrate on finding this bartender. Or hairdresser. Or both.

They were pulling up to the salon when they heard the raised voices. Ziva, who forever erred on the side of caution, immediately went for her gun. They rounded burst through the door into the salon, which did indeed have a bar in the corner, and Tony instantly followed suit. Their bartender was currently in a strangle-hold, a hooded figure behind tugging him backwards. Bottles were being knocked backwards and onto the floor, spilling their contents over the granite paving slabs.

"Freeze! NCIS!"

It seemed to be the first indication to the pair that there was anyone else there. Startled by this, the attacker let go, with the other man falling to the floor. THe agents surged forward, but the perpetrator was already getting out of there. Swinging over the countertop, he was through the emergency exit faster than Tony and Ziva could navigate around the civilian who they probably shouldn't step on.

The exit led straight onto the back alley and with only two directions to check, it wasn't hard to see the man disappear around a corner. They set off in hot pursuit, guns held low, but ready. They splashed through the puddles which always occupied the broken concrete underfoot and rushed to follow.

They were too late, however. Just as they reached the main street, a car revved and went racing past them, the door only being closed halfway down the street. Ziva let off a couple of shots, but it was in vain.

"Tony?"

"Got the plate," he replied. "Let's go talk to our bartender."

Re-entering the salon, they found the victim slumped awkwardly against one of the plush, leather seats which were scattered through the room. He was breathing heavily, hand pressed to his stomach.

"Hey!" called Tony. The man jerked his head up sharply. "NCIS." A blank look. Tony sighed and brought out his badge. "Federal agents. You Thomas Talbot?" A nod in response. "You hurt?"

Thomas seemed to seriously consider this, even going so far as to pat himself down lazily. Eventually, he came to a conclusion.

"No. I don't think so. Who was that?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," answered Ziva steadily as she replaced her weapon. "You received money from 'Education4All'." A grimace immediately crossed over his face.

"Something wrong?"

"I'll say. They paid my college fees. Said it was disgraceful how some people aren't allowed to get themselves a good education, even when they'd earned it. And I had. Got better grades than some of the rich kids who went to my school. Just… not good enough for a scholarship. You can imagine my relief when out of the blue, they offered to pay, in full."

"And then?"

"About four weeks ago, maybe a month, they sent me a letter. Said they wanted to help the next generation, so they were demanding the full amount to be paid back. All of it! I mean, I put the degree to good use. Run this business like a dream with Jason. But I can't pay the amount back immediately." He paused. "You don't think that's why I've been attacked."

"It is a possibility. You need to come with us for now."

"Right. I'll call Jason. He does home visits Tuesdays for the old folk who can't get about as much."

The agents nodded. At least one of their charges was sensible. And now, they had a new angle to work.

...NCIS…

As it turned out, it was unlikely the financial advisor had anything to be worried about. Upon receiving the demand, he had simply paid it back. After all, it wasn't much to a man like him. The new arrival from Oklahoma was a similar story: having set up a rather successful online business he was rather comfortably set up for life.

The other targets, it soon turned out, were not in that position. Aside from the PFC, there was a local chef, a mechanic, a teacher, a budding novelist who so far hadn't reached the heights of Thom E Gemcity and a pastor all now dead or missing. The picture was bleak; if you weren't rich, you were dead.

However, the payments were made to a new account, one which McGee set about tracing with gusto. Again, it was held by a charity, this one by the name of 'WordsandNumbers', an education charity with remarkable resemblances with 'Education4All'. There was also the plate for the car. It was stolen, but a BOLO would hopefully have better luck.

It was getting late when Gibbs' phone rang. Everyone looked up and stared at the phone intently, hoping it wasn't another body found. They'd been going for over fifteen hours by this point and none of them wanted to go stand in a field around a dead man or woman.

"Be right down Duck." Gibbs placed the phone back in its holder and stood, taking note of the _almost_ audible sigh of relief from his agents. He didn't comment as he himself couldn't wait for this week to be done.

...NCIS…

Jimmy took another scraping from underneath the fingernails of the former mechanic. The woman was thick set with strong arms from wrenching apart car engines for the last five years. Bruises on her knuckles showed she'd put up a fight. It was the other bruises that were the problem.

"Ducky, I think I have another one." He picked up a pair of tweezers and delicately pulled a slender leaf from the dirt.

"And I here, Mr Palmer," replied Ducky as he tugged an identical leaf from the poor teacher's hair. He was prevented from going further by the swish of the Autopsy doors. "Ah, Jethro, yes. As you can see, we've had the delivery of the two other unfortunate victims connected with this case. Although I hear we may expect more before this is over?"

"Three more missing Duck," Gibbs confirmed, although he went no further than that. He didn't consider anyone dead until he saw their body. He'd seen too many miracles and mistaken identities to dismiss the idea that the others were still alive.

"Quite. And I suggest that they may still be alive."

"Duck?" This meant hope.

"It was already known that these people had been moved prior to their death. However, because their Autopsies had not been performed, it was not known that they had been beaten prior to their demise."

"Beaten."

"Repeatedly, but not for longer. I'd say that both victims were died within an hour of the first blow. You see, Jethro, we were able to document the blows in a rough order from how far they'd progressed. The first fews were applied to legs and arms and were painful but not fatal. The final few were to the stomach and if they hadn't been strangled or stabbed, they probably would've died from internal bleeding."

"The killer wanted something."

"And when they didn't get it, they simply killed their victim. And they didn't show great patience with them either."

"I've found another one, Doctor," called out Jimmy.

"Good, good, Mr Palmer." Gibbs gave Ducky a look. "I was getting that. Both of these victims have leaves from the American Chestnut, attached to them. Yes, I identified it very readily. It was all thanks to a trip I went on with my friend Terence back in…"

"Duck."

"Yes, well. This, I'd say is rather unusual plant. Rather rare. The chances of both of them being near, or even found near one once dead, is remote."

"They were kidnapped, beaten, killed then their bodies dumped."

"Precisely. I rather think that was the intended fate of PFC Willows as well, but she put up too much of a fight and they stabbed her. Thinking the wound was deeper than it was, they simply left her to die than lug her uselessly to wherever their base was."

"Rare, Duck."

"Indeed. Aside from a few rather public examples, I'd say your best bet would be a more… natural environment."

"Park or…"

"Somewhere remote."

Gibbs smiled. A car and a unusual tree. Things on this case were looking up. He glanced over to the assistant who was now bent over, examining feet. He'd made sure his orders had been followed and checked with Abby that Palmer had indeed slept in her lab that morning, although only for three short hours. It was clear. His movements were slower than usual and his eyes now seemed to have bruises beneath them the circles were so dark.

He turned to Ducky, who merely exchanged a knowing look. Gibbs nodded in response; Ducky would look after his assistant. He thus left him to it and went back upstairs.

He was mildly surprised to find all his agents crowded around McGee's desk.

"Boss," exclaimed Tony, upon seeing Gibbs return. "We had a hit on the BOLO. Vehicle was seen near..."

"Shenandoah Park."

"...Yeah, how?"

"Private with a lot of trees."

"Right… well, it was seen entering there several hours ago. No idea whereabouts inside though and it's a large enough area, but McBankAccount here had a plan."

McGee simply rolled his eyes. It was too late for him to think of a good response to the McNickname. He'd been going four hours longer than the rest of them and Gibbs was vaguely surprised he was still thinking straight. Then again, he'd been down to see Abby about an hour ago, so maybe a bit of CafPow! was helping.

"McGee."

"Well, I was able to trace the account until the money gets transferred somewhere I can't really follow. However…" he hurried on seeing Gibbs' face. "I was thinking. This money is leaving the 'WordsandNumbers' account as soon as it gets put in there, suggesting someone has an alert set on their phone or laptop. If we put a bit of money into the account, we can track the people accessing it as soon as they log on."

"How much money?" Gibbs was already thinking how he could explain this one to Vance.

"Thirty, maybe forty thousand dollars. From Talbot's account to make it look like he's found at least some of the requested money in reply to almost being killed."

"Ok, get it cleared through finance."

"Erm… well, they won't be there at this hour, Boss. Besides, shouldn't we wait for tomorrow?"

"Nope. Ducky thinks there's a chance the missing people are still alive."

"Right." McGee immediately went to pick up his phone to get hold of someone from the finance department. Frankly, anyone who was still awake would do, but he started at the middle; after all, the Head would instantly reject the plan and a newbie wouldn't have enough power to do it.

...NCIS…

Palmer would admit to anyone he was practically extremely tired. He was possibly even more tired than he was during some of his busiest periods during his medical degree and some of those nights were… well, numerous rather than simply long.

They'd finished with one body and Ducky had insisted they both stop for a break before starting on the next. He'd thus taken the opportunity to raid the vending machine for some form of snack now the canteen was closed.

He inserted his coins and watched as a pack of sweets fell down.

"They got you here late as well, huh?"

Jimmy physically jumped. Turning sharply, he saw Julie from Finance leaning against the drinks machine, arms folded. Her hair was pulled hastily back into a ponytail instead of her usual smart plait and her clothes were decidedly rumpled, as if they'd been taken off and thrown back on in a hurry.

"Yeah," she continued, not acknowledging Jimmy surprise. "They've dragged me back in in order to release funds for some half-baked scheme of McGee's. I don't know why the Director doesn't just give them access to their own account, given the amount of money they get through."

"I'm sure if McGee's come up with a plan, it'll work out and you'll get the money back," Jimmy finally managed.

"Yeah, well, he'd better. You done?" Jimmy looked confused then realised what she meant. He hurriedly grabbed his snack and stepped back. "Thanks. I need a sugar rush. Don't know how you cope with them all without relying loading half a pack of chocolate into you every hour." She ordered her snack, then turned, clearly not done yet. "I heard you were here overnight last night too."

"I was, but…"

"Typical. You work just as crazy hours as them, get into fair bit of danger along the way and they can't give you a break."

"I did, I mean, I don't…"

"Oh please. Everyone knows you took, like, one day off after being kidnapped. That's crazy. Didn't even moan like some of them do."

"I don't…"

"Julie!" DiNozzo appeared almost at a run. "We're ready for the account code. You got it?"

She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes as she did so. The message was clear; she was fed up already. Jimmy gladly let her go back to work though as he opened his pack. He knew he couldn't eat the whole lot at once, but a few would last him through to their next break when hopefully he could go out and get proper sustenance before, most likely and hopefully, collapsing into a bed.

He made his way slowly down to Autopsy, knowing as soon as he was down there, work would start again and there was no stopping until they were done, probably in a couple of hours at least. It wasn't even as if they were likely to learn anything new. The same people were the killers and only the final method of murder was different. Everything else was going to be horrendously familiar.

He slipped back in and realised Ducky wasn't there. The teacup was drained and the teapot put away. It seemed Ducky was unlikely to long. Jimmy considered sitting down briefly, but knew that would just make it harder to stand up. He settled on leaning against one of the tables, staring at the next body. Ducky had already been over the body, examining it externally for instant clues to give Gibbs.

He yawned heavily and blinked several times trying to shake the sleep from his eyes. He hoped that performing the autopsy would provide enough distraction from his tiredness.

The door swished open behind him, but he didn't turn around. It was likely to be Ducky and, sure enough, the Doctor appeared by his arm a moment later.

"Well, if nothing else comes from this, I hope you'll think twice before trying to stay up for a week."

The tone was light-hearted, but Palmer could recognise the seriousness behind it. Frankly, though, it made him a little more annoyed at himself. After all, he'd managed to work through the last few days on a couple of hours of sleep hastily grabbed at the end of the night… or the start of the morning, Jimmy wasn't sure how to classify it. However, usually the extra hours were just spent lazily chatting with Henry. This time, he'd been examining files and actually using brain power.

"I think I will, Doctor Mallard," he admitted.

"Good. Now, we will deal with our final guest, check there are no surprises and then go home. You know, this makes me recall a time when…"

Jimmy smiled as Ducky began to scrub up, story in full swing. This was far more normal and he enjoyed moments like this. They were becoming far too far between.


	14. Chapter 14

"How much longer, McTracker?" Tony was getting increasingly bored, stuck in the backseat of an agency car, Ziva and Gibbs occupying the front two seats. The pre-dawn air was chilly and both agents could tell Gibbs was also becoming impatient. Especially when people could still be in trouble out there.

They'd been waiting on the edge of Shenandoah for the last forty minutes, but to Tony it seemed longer. It was alright for McGeek, still cosily sat at his desk, waiting to track the money.

"Well, the money went in about an hour ago, but late hour is obviously delaying them," replied McGee over the phone. "I can't exactly hurry them up. They're probably asleep."

"Yeah, like I'm not," grumbled Tony further.

"Well, neither am I," argued McGee in frustration. It wasn't his fault Tony hadn't learnt the skills to do this job.

"Yeah, but you're in…" Tony was cut off as McGee suddenly let out a gasp, following by some intense clicking and tapping.

"They've logged on!"

"Boss, we're on," relayed Tony. Gibbs immediately started up the engine, allowing the heaters to burst into life as well, to Tony's relief.

"Which way?"

Tony paused as he listened over the phone. He knew better to interrupt McGee at a time like this. The silence lasted ten seconds, then to thirty seconds.

"MCGEE!" shouted Gibbs, so loud both agents present jumped, leaving Tony in no doubt that McGee had heard.

There was a more hurried tapping and a sigh of relief.

"Got their location, Boss," said McGee, forgetting that only Tony could hear him. Luckily, Tony relayed the co-ordinates as given and soon the Senior Agent was thrown against the back of the seat as Gibbs accelerated.

The track became narrower and narrower until suddenly McGee cried out for them to turn right sharply. Tony repeated, clinging to the seat for his dear life. The turning was small, almost unnoticeable, with lower branches angled across the entire track. Tony winced as wood scraped over the roof, glad it wasn't his paintwork.

Gibbs didn't slow down, even as the track became bumpier and rougher. Thus, when the order of stop came through, he had to slam the brakes so hard Ziva almost headed the dashboard.

"WHAT MCGEE?" Again, no repetition required.

"Boss," said Tony, phone still to his ear. "We're getting close to the location. Probably need to be a little more… subtle if they have hostages."

Gibbs grimaced, but saw the point. Only being three of them though, they could hardly surround whatever encampment was up ahead. Best idea was to get information first.

They got out of the car and Gibbs silently signalled for them to split up, Ziva heading left, Tony right by about one hundred yards. There was a faint crack as they shifted away. Gibbs looked up and against the brightening sky, he saw the distinctive leaf shape of the American Chestnut.

Ahead, lights started to glimmer through the trees as the trees gave way to a clearing with two buildings. The lights came from a comfortable looking wooden cabin with thin curtains providing little dimming of the lamps. The shadows of two people were therefore clear and given the way they were moving, they weren't hurt or frightened. They were too rapid and the faint laughter bubbled out.

The other building was nothing more than a tumbledown shed, door only clinging to its hinges via the weakest looking metal. Ziva, gun raised, was closest to this and while Tony and Gibbs concentrated on the suspects, she slipped through the wide opening.

"Gibbs, we have another body. It looks like Melanie" she said a few seconds later over the intercom and Gibbs let out a silent curse. They were too late.

He gestured to Tony, who moved forward to be ready to cover any rear exits or windows. A bird flew up, screaming in terror, but the two people inside weren't disturbed.

"Gibbs! I have found two more people. Alive. I presume the pastor and writer. They are shaken and Marsh especially looks to be in a bad way. McGee, get an ambulance ready."

This was better news and Gibbs was glad. He then realised it was the best news they'd had for several weeks. He shook his head; he couldn't afford to be distracted right now. Ziva had to stay with the victims, leaving just him and Tony to take down the two kidnappers, assuming there weren't more.

He approached the front door, deciding to neglect the knocking procedure. These people had a dead body in their shed, that was enough to consider them dangerous.

Launching the door open, he swung around to where a man and woman stood. A few seconds later, a rear door behind them swung opened to reveal DiNozzo, gun equally high.

"NCIS! Hands on you head."

The demand was met with heads snapping round as the rest of their bodies froze. The man was the first to recover, hands slowly going up in surrender. He was still in some stripey pyjamas, leaving little room for concealed weapons, so Gibbs turned to concentrate on the woman.

She was older, angrier looking. She was in thick trousers and jumper and had dark eyes which squinted towards Gibbs. Her attention then flicked to the table where a gun lay.

"Don't," warned Gibbs, but this seemed to fuel the fire in her eyes more.

"I wanted to help them. But then I realised they were selfish idiots. They didn't use their degrees to help the world, just get better jobs for more money," she growled in a thick southern accent. She looked at the gun again. "And now you're going to arrest me for it? It's not fair!"

With these final words, she lunged for the gun, but only got within two inches of it. Bullets came from two angles and she slumped to the floor immediately.

"ANGIE!" yelled the other man, tears starting to run down his face. His hands fell slightly, but were caught as Tony tugged them behind his back, securing them in handcuffs. "You bastard. What did you do that? She.. She just…" He broke down in sobs, collapsing to his knees.

Tony looked across to Gibbs, who was making sure she really was dead. A simple check revealed this to be the case. He stood, sighing heavily. Cases like this never seemed to have satisfactory endings. It just ended up with too many dead bodies.

Speaking of which…

"McGee, get Ducky out here. Come along as well. I think they'll be a lot of processing to be done." He looked up at Tony once this order was given. "Take him back to NCIS. Prefer the victims don't see him when they come out."

"On it, Boss." Tony tugged the man up sharply, ignoring his tears. Considering how many were going to be shed by relatives, he had little sympathy for the man who helped.

Once he'd left, Gibbs was left staring at the now bloody scene alone. He better go see Ziva, see how bad the victims were. Whilst the ambulance had been on stand-by it would be a good thirty minutes out.

...NCIS…

The ambulance actually took twenty-five, driven as it was by an experienced woman who looked like she'd have driven straight across the nearby lake if she thought it would get her there quicker.

Pastor Marsh was strapped onto a gurney, having regained consciousness a couple of minutes early. They'd kept him still as he thanked God over and over again, then thanking Ziva's God when he saw her necklace. She smiled sweetly at this and kept a calming hand on his scraped forehead until help came.

About half an hour after the ambulance pulled away, the Autopsy van ground to a halt. Ducky got out the driver's side, raising a finger to his lips as he did. He waved his other hand to the passenger seat, full of one sleeping Autopsy Gremlin.

"When he heard there were two bodies to collect all the way out here, I couldn't really stop him. However, I'm glad I did insist to drive. He lasted about as far as the Navy Yard front gate."

"You gonna wake him now? I can get McGee to help you."

"With the dead bodies, Boss?" McGee pulled a mildly distressed face before he glanced at Gibbs' expression. "Sure, I can help…"

Ducky smiled indulgently. "I appreciate the offer McGee. However, I think you all have a lot to do in any case and I think Mr Palmer won't be happy if I don't." He lowered his voice. "I don't need to make the boy feel useless when it seems work is the only thing keeping him going."

Gibbs conceded the point and stepped back to allow Ducky to go around the van, waking his assistant gently.

The scene was dealt with quicker than they worried for which Gibbs was eternally grateful for. Even Ziva was starting to tilt by the end and as soon as extra agents turned up, by order of Vance to lend a hand, Gibbs relinquished the scene. As a result, they followed the Autopsy van out of the glade. McGee tried to insist he was alright to drive, but one glare from Gibbs and he left his agency car for another agent to bring back; he'd had an hour's sleep in last 50, so no way was Gibbs letting him behind a wheel.

It was a quiet return journey. Across the two vehicles, only the drivers were awake and both absorbed the peace, knowing how rare it could sometimes be.

...NCIS…

Back at headquarters, Tony was held slightly by indecision. He'd done a little backgrounding on the man currently in the interview room, one Laker Watson. Expelled from college after he destroyed a lab with an experiment with chemicals he was definitely _not_ meant to be performing, he'd fallen off the radar for a few years, surfacing only a couple of times as he was employed in various jobs before disappearing entirely.

It was a poor show, but the man had abandoned his bank account, his student debt left unpaid. Tony really didn't know what to make of him. Obviously, he was besotted by this Angie, given his threats in the car ride back, but he also railed against the establishment, bureaucracy, anyone who had a job.

Given up on Googling the guy, Tony decided to bite the bullet and headed down to the interview rooms to actually try and talk with the guy.

Entering the room led to him being shouted at and accused of corruption. Tony was glad the guy was handcuffed else he was sure this would end in just sat down opposite and waited for the verbal abuse to end.

"Finished?" when the room finally fell silent.

"With you?" he growled, thens at back. "Yes," he admitted.

"Run out of insults, huh?" teased Tony. "Well, now, given you were found in a hut in the middle of nowhere with bodies in the shed, I don't really have to interview you. I have you to rights. However, out of interest, why?"

"They deserved it."

"Being beaten and shot? A chef, a teacher… a pastor? How did they _deserve_ it?"

"See! That's the problem. You're so used to being a shallow, self-centred person, you fail to even acknowledge the duty those educated enough have to humanity. They were given education and they weren't using it for the greater good of humanity. They just used it to earn more money."

"So, you have an issue that… what? They weren't all doing daily charity work?"

"That teacher. She had a biophysics degree. She could be using it to cure cancer. The pastor, is he helping bring peace to the war zones? The chef… don't even get me started on the chef."

"And the rich? Those who really were in it for the money."

"They at least recognise the gift of education they'd been given. Gave the money back to help further our cause."

Tony nodded slowly. This guy had a screw loose, possibly several. Probably fuelled by the Angie who seemed to have been equally cracked. He sighed and started to spread the photos of the victims out.

"Is this what the educated do?" He placed a few more photos out. "Punched, kicked, broken bones, internal bleeding. Strangled. Stabbed."

There was silence for a few moments as the other man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ' _Bingo!'_ thought Tony. He may have helped with the kidnapping, but murder was obviously pushing a limit he didn't want pushed.

"Angie… She said they wouldn't resist so much. They didn't know hardship. Not truly. Give 'em a scare and they'd pay up. But then… if they had, Angie wouldn't have been so… angry."

"She killed them…"

"No…"

"Then, you did?"

" _No_."

"Well, you're gonna have to pick. Else I'll have to take your first answer."

Again, silence. Eyes flickered about the room. Tony knew by this point who did the final deed and it certainly wasn't the man in front of him. The hesitation, the second guessing. If he had killed, he wouldn't have done it again.

The next voice came out almost as a whisper.

"Did she suffer? As she died?"

Tony sighed. "Less than the people you helped kill did."

Laker sobbed. "She'd given everything to helping them. A high salary, her husband, kids. And all they did with it was cook food and mend cars. It wasn't fair."

Tony sighed again and began packing up. A quick background search would probably confirm the story. Now he had an outline though, it would be a fairly simple matter and then they could move on from this whole terrible affair.

….NCIS…

Gibbs didn't drive as fast as he could back, instead allowing his passengers, particularly the male one, a little time to rest. Ziva was in the front seat, which was lucky as her snoring didn't disturb McGee. In front of him was the Autopsy van, steadily rolling along.

About half an hour in, the ME van suddenly pulled into the side of the road. It was controlled, but the lack of warning worried Gibbs, who followed suit. He got out the car quickly enough, but out of the corner of his eye he saw his two agents shuffled awake at the blast of cool midnight air.

He rounded the side of the ME van, but before he reached it, Ducky climbed out of the driver's seat. He stretched his back before meeting Gibbs halfway.

"Problem, Duck?"

The ME sighed heavily. "Nothing that can be fixed now. Mr Palmer just woke up." Gibbs raised his eyebrows, expecting more, which did follow. "He awoke rather… violently though, so I thought it best to pull in."

"He alright in there?"

"I'm just giving him a moment, then it'll be OK. Though I understand way he's been so averse to sleeping at my home now."

Gibbs nodded and looked over to his car. McGee and Ziva were looking anxiously out, Ziva with one hand already of the door handle, ready if Gibbs needed back-up.

"Well, tonight he'll have a proper detail who'll keep him there at least."

Ducky smiled his thanks before turning back to his van. A minute later they were back on the road.

...NCIS...

An hour and three-quarters later, they pulled through the Navy Yard gates, the two agents napping again. As if on cue, Ziva stretched upwards and her eyes fluttered open.

"We are here?" Gibbs grunted. "What shall we do about McGee?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw McGee still fast asleep, not even twitching in his sleep. Gibbs took a deep breath in; after all, he'd played nice Gibbs for long enough.

"MCGEE!"

Even Ziva, though she had seen it coming, was startled, shifting back in her seat. In the backseat, the only preventing McGee from rocketing to his feet was his seatbelt. As it was it tugged heavily against his body, snapping to his seat even harder. For a second, Ziva had a minor worry he was going to suffer whiplash.

"I'mawakeBoss," he hurriedly uttered, and, to be fair, he wasn't lying. His widened his eyes briefly as he took in the scenery. "We back already?"

Gibbs didn't respond, just got out of the car. The trio made his way up to the bullpen, where they found Tony poring over a piece of paper.

"DiNozzo," said Gibbs, gruff as ever. "What you got?"

Tony looked up sharply, as if he hadn't noticed the others enter. He recovered from this quickly enough, though, years of working with Gibbs giving him experience with being startled. He grabbed the remote and brought up the two DMV licenses.

"Laker Watson, expelled from college. I've performed the interview already, Boss. At least one screw loose. I think it made him very impressionable."

"How?" Ziva asked. "And what screw?"

The other three stared at her for a second, before Tony decided to take this one.

"He's slightly… y'know." He whistled waving a finger to his temple. "Mind you, probably not as bad as this lady who Abby's now identified. Angela Harvey. Gave up a very well paid position as accountant to work at 'Education4All'. Volunteered with them before performing the final shutdown. In that time, her husband divorced her and when I called her two children they hadn't heard from her since then. Said she became obsessed with it."

Gibbs judged the pictures for a second. Laker looked dishevelled in his photo anyway. His college experiments left him with a criminal record, each time with notes that he insisted he was performing necessary research for humanity. It didn't take Ducky to work out why he might resent those who'd been allowed to finish their degree but didn't use it 'properly'.

Harvey was a different matter. She looked like a normal suburban mother-type in her photo, with clean ironed clothes and a smart bob. It was a far cry from the woman who'd tried to shoot Gibbs a few hours earlier.

Two lost souls. Gibbs sighed. He held little sympathy for them anymore, after all, they had killed several innocent people, but he felt that if he'd met them a year ago, heck, if he's met them six months ago, he probably would've had some element of pity for them. As it was, he felt nothing but anger.

"Any mention of anyone else?"

"Nope. And I don't think Laker would've been able to conceal it. I don't think he could conceal anything in the state he's in right now. Harvey is almost definitely the killer in every case except our Marine. That would've been Laker in the middle for a botched kidnapping. He can also be booked for most the injuries sustained."

Gibbs nodded and turned. He considered every one of his agents individually. Tony had been awake since the call about Palmer's disappearing act the previous morning. Ziva the same aside from a short hour or so in the car. McGee, well, aside again from his nap, he'd been going straight through since the case started.

They'd worked longer cases, that was true and Gibbs had no doubt if they had a new case now, they'd be OK for a bit. However, there was no reason to stretch this out further, especially as he knew what else they'd be dealing with that evening.

"Go home. I'll see you Tony, Ziva, I want you to go to Ducky's, 2000hr."

"Boss?" asked McGee.

"Paperwork can wait, but Palmer needs a proper protection detail and I think after the last debacle, Duck's not going to accept anyone else. McGee, you essentially pulled the last shift. Tony and Ziva…"

"Our turn to watch over the Gremlin. I'll make sure he doesn't get fed after midnight this time."

The joke was mild, but it did the trick in breaking the worn-out mood. The gang started to gather up their stuff, ready to go home and collapse into bed for a few hours.

"Tony!" Gibbs turned back as an afterthought. "Bring some DVDs. Something that'll keep Palmer inside this time." His Senior Agent nodded in understanding.

"Hmmm… so many options. What to show an ME assistant?"

"Monty Python. That examines the inside of someone," suggested McGee.

"Possibly. Little bit of British comedy in Ducky's house sounds fitting."

They started off slowly, but when Lawson, the Head of Finance appeared, all of sudden they couldn't leave fast enough, leaving Gibbs to stare down the equally experienced accountant.


	15. Chapter 15

**I know, 2 chapters in 12 hours. Having seen my scheduele for the week, I've decided to post the next chapter a little early while I have the chance. Hope it tides you over.**

Downstairs, Jimmy was yawning for the sixth time in the last half hour. He just couldn't stop.

"Come on Mr Palmer, we'll produce a preliminary cause of death for young Melanie, then turn our attention to her killer. While I generally prefer to allow victims to take precedence, there's little question over her death, but Jethro's actions may well be under a little more scrutiny. Let us see if there is any medical issues to explain and prove her ill-intent."

Jimmy just nodded and Ducky paused.

"If you wish, you can grab a nap in Abby's lab for a while first." As expected though, Jimmy shook his head. He still felt the tendrils of his last nightmare snaking around his body, making him feel a little cold. There had just been so much water. "Very well."

They laid out Melanie onto a steel table and began to gently remove her ragged clothes, trying to distance themselves from the cuts and bruises which littered her skin. In a few places, dried blood stuck the fabric to the skin and here Jimmy had to gently cut it away.

Unusually for the ME, the first few minutes were silent. Jimmy felt very uncomfortable about this, being sure this meant the ensuing conversations was one Doctor Mallard didn't want to start. Eventually, though they had removed all clothing, leaving only a clean cloth for her dignity and as if on cue, Ducky began to speak again.

"Do you know a Doctor Ranagan? Or Doctor Cheng?" Jimmy shook his head. "Both are excellent psychiatrists and Doctor Ranagan in particular is a very quiet fellow. I remember once he was supposed to give a speech at… but I digress. I mention them as possible substitutes for Doctor Bracco." Jimmy nodded, but stayed silent. "You need to see someone and I feel this time you'd benefit from knowing a little about the personalities involved first."

"I appreciate the offer, Doctor Mallard, but I think… I think I might want to leave it a few days first. The last couple have been… busy."

Ducky pulled out the camera they used to document the body's condition. He took a photos as he thought of a response. It had been a long couple of days and it wasn't quite over yet. Jimmy was tired and in need of a good night's rest before he could think deeply on these matters.

And therein laid the problem.

Ducky finished with the camera as his assistant brought over the x-ray machine. The older Doctor stared at him for a moment before answering.

"Sleep won't come, Mr Palmer. Not if you continue to force yourself to act like all this is normal."

This got a reaction.

"Normal? Doctor, I haven't slept properly for over two weeks. How's that normal?"

"Because you keep coming into work. I have to force you to take breaks in Abby's lab. You tell Breena everything's fine and you didn't tell anyone about your midnight jaunts. If you weren't trying to show off everything as normal, then why did you you give Risguard the slip? If you'd explained yourself, it would have been concerning, yes, but you hiding it is more so."

"I just want… I feel…" Jimmy stuttered awkwardly. How could he explain he didn't like the attention, but knew he'd hate it more if he was left alone? He felt embarrassed and ridiculous and... scared.

He'd never thought he'd manage to reduce his whole set of emotions down to one, especially not a rather childish-sounding one. People were afraid of heights or startled by loud noises or they panicked in gunfire. They were never simply scared, but right now, that summed him up.

"Mr Palmer, I realise you don't want to let me in on whatever's going on in your head, but you could've let me know Doctor Bracco was causing you distress and I'd have found you someone else." There was a pause as they helped each other into the lead aprons. "You know, when I partook in my course, I met several Doctors, all of whom are eminently qualified, all of whom could help…"

"I don't want… I just want to have a day where I don't think about it. About any of it."

"Denial won't help. Tell me, have you ever heard of…"

"Please don't say elephant test. I'm _already_ thinking of elephants."

Ducky chuckled and clicked the first x-ray. Once started, the next few minutes were taken over by positioning the bulky x-ray machine around the body and over the top, cataloguing all the injuries young Melanie sustained. Looking at the results, there were few surprises. Both her arms were broken, but a couple of killer blows had shattered her ribs, piercing her lungs in the process. Doctor Mallard sighed heavily; he could picture her gasping desperately, but ultimately failing to breathe in the much needed air.

He catalogued the injuries as Palmer drew blood for Abby to run. His assistant then proceeded to cover her over. The pair moved her over to a drawer, ready for tomorrow, before focussing on Angela Harvey.

Midway through undressing her, Doctor Mallard tried again.

"You know, usually I'd say we should take tomorrow off. After all, we've earnt it. I take it you wouldn't like that?" Jimmy, predictably, shook his head. "I thought as much. You really have picked up too many bad habits from the team; they're always throwing themselves into work when things go wrong. However, I insist we come in a little late. I, for one, need some more rest." Jimmy smiled. "Then, we'll have this discussion again?"

Jimmy looked across at him, but realised that postponing it one day was the best he could hope for. He nodded slowly and repositioned his glasses before returning to his work. Ducky watched him for a few seconds, before looking back down at Harvey.

Within minutes, normal service, as far as Jimmy was concerned, was resumed as Ducky launched into a tale about the the libraries in Alexandria. It felt… safe.

...NCIS…

Ducky pulled up to his house about 8 o'clock that evening. In his passenger seat was Gibbs, with Palmer in the back. The Agent was his usual verbal self, not saying a word for the whole journey as Ducky informed him of the differences in an automatic and manual, aside from the obvious.

Palmer was leaning against the window, eyes blinking very slowly as he fought sleep. DiNozzo and Ziva were meant to pick up some takeaway for the group, but Ducky was torn between feeding Jimmy, who's blood sugar could survive a short while longer, and sending him straight to bed. However, the decision was made by the man himself, who smelt the Chinese selection and immediately grabbed the chicken chow mein.

The meal was a quiet affair, or at least as quiet as it could be with Tony and Ducky at the table. One quip about forks and chopsticks and they were off, with Ziva occasionally adding a comment. Gibbs just sat there and watched over the group, keeping an eye on Palmer who hunkered over his food, shutting the external world out entirely.

It was going to be a rough night.

As soon as the food was over, with all the cartons pushed into the recycling and forks washed up, Ducky steered Jimmy towards the stairs. He was taking no chances of JImmy slipping out, at least before he'd given sleep a go. His diligence paid off unexpectedly, as Jimmy stumbled sleepily of the bathroom and almost went hurtling down the stairs before Ducky guided him into the room, Ducky now thought of as Jimmy's.

Laying down on the bed, Ducky waited until he was sure Jimmy was out like a light before moving away. It only took ten minutes.

Gibbs was waiting outside for his old friend.

"He alright, Duck?" he whispered.

"No. And I beginning to think that unless we do something more… drastic, he'll never be."

"Drastic, Duck?"

"Yes. Just don't ask me what."

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. The two men peered over the banisters as they watched Tony go to answer it, gun drawn. Ziva was probably somewhere covering him and Gibbs placed one hand on his gun.

"Director Vance," Tony announced, loud enough so the whole house heard and stood down. Gibbs and Ducky exchanged a look before they headed down. Somehow, they couldn't see this being a good conversation.

The group seated themselves in Ducky's sitting room, ancient lamps illuminating the sofas and comfy chairs. Only Ziva stood, by the door looking out into the corridor making sure no-one could sneak past them, up the stairs. It was unlikely she would see them before Gibbs heard them though.

The Director surveyed the room. He'd not been to Ducky's house before, but it fitted the vision he had. This seemed a more appropriate setting for the discussion they needed to have.

"Well, Leon," prompted Gibbs, after Vance waited a little too long.

"I need to talk to you about Jimmy Palmer."

"If it's about removing his detail, you have another think coming," insisted Gibbs. "Hickman is still out there."

"Besides, we're only pulling the night-shift. He's at the Yard all day," Tony added.

"I'm not suggesting that at all," Vance reassured both men. "Although I'm not allowing you to stay on it." He held his hand up at the protests. "I'm not having my MCRT working double shifts and before you ask I'm not pulling a team with a solve rate like yours from rotation for a detail that could go on for a while yet. I'll find some more agents to cover it. _Trustworthy_ agents," he emphasised as Ducky started to speak. "Let's face it, if they're not, you lot will just end up refusing to leave again.

"No, I'm here to discuss another matter." He paused. "Maybe it would be better done in private, Doctor Mallard."

"We are his friends and colleagues, Director," Ziva insisted. "He, and you, can trust us, whatever it is you have to say."

Vance sighed. He was used to the team protecting each other, but this was now about Jimmy Palmer and he kept feeling they didn't know him well enough to have the right to do so against their boss. However, he did come here, knowing what would greet him and this was hardly a truly private issue.

"I have received an official complaint today about the treatment of Palmer. It was submitted by Julie Zieger, but signed by a dozen others. I believe she did some accounting work for you yesterday?" He watched for Gibbs' careful nod. "On a side note, could I be told before you use $40000 of Agency money as bait?

"Anyway, she was… concerned by Palmer's presence last night. It's no secret that he was here the night before and it's gotten out that he's been staying several nights over the past fortnight."

"Well, what do you want us to do, Director? We thought he was home, tucked, dreaming little Gremlin dreams."

"Well, you can cut that language for a start, DiNozzo!" Vance's sudden change in tone led the SFA to sit up. "Part of the problem is that they think you lot have been walking over him. That includes calling him Autopsy Gremlin, a nickname which has spread, and bringing him in all hours."

"Now hang on…" "It wasn't supposed to…"

"Enough. I will be straightening all of this out tomorrow with Julie, and the other signatories. However, I have had to take disciplinary action against three agents so far because they view Palmer as someone expendable. I would hate it if Palmer started thinking the same way. On the opposing side, I have had to field several complaints about people who think we aren't offering enough support to him because he's not a field agent."

"Well, what can we do, Director? He's rejected the help available in the main part and what he has has backfired badly. He and I are scheduled for another chat about other Doctors who may be able to help him, but I struggle to be sure he'll go to the sessions."

"Then be sure. Whilst I'm not letting you protect him, I'm asking you to show you care. Drive him to the sessions. Work out a rota between you. Gibbs, I'm expecting you to take this seriously. You've let your team take psych services too lightly in the past. Well, now you've got to fix that image."

Gibbs nodded. He had made sure the team had time when he thought they needed it in the past, but equally he didn't put his foot down when he knew they'd passed by saying the right things, rather than thinking them. Usually, it all straightened out, but it was destined to lead to issues.

The Director stood.

"I'll let you have a think and come up with any others propositions. Just be warned; if he can't cope and leaves, you'll find many people in the agency pointing the finger at you."

The mood as Vance left was sobre. No-one wanted Palmer to leave full-stop, never mind what the rest of the agency thought. Their mere presence at Ducky's house displayed their concern for their Autopsy Gremlin.

And Tony refused to _not_ call him that. It was a nickname he had invented so long ago he can barely remember the first time it was used. He hadn't stopped when Gibbs left and Palmer suddenly became a very welcome advisor. If anything, to drop the habit which was as ingrained as 'Probie' was would be akin to giving up on the bond he and his _Autopsy Gremlin_ had built.

It was Ducky who eventually broke the spell, rising from his chair, still in thought.

"Come on. There is little point in worrying about the opinions of those at NCIS. Our priority, as it should always have been, is to help Mr Palmer and right now that seems to involve guarding him. Though, Jethro," Ducky turned to his old friend. "I hope we may return to finding Hickman now the current case is over."

Gibbs nodded in agreement. They couldn't put off their other work entirely, but he was determined that time would be dedicated to finding the threat.

"And now, I must bid you goodnight. I have not had the chance to rest recently and am in dire need of a few hours sleep. Jethro, I propose you do the same. Anthony and Ziva are more than capable and more alert than we could be right now."

Gibbs looked round his Agents, who were much brighter after the few hours sleep they'd caught that afternoon. He himself had been stuck smoothing Lawson's ruffled feathers for a couple of hours and had to admit he was no longer as awake as he should be. Nodding, he heaved himself to standing and followed Ducky's gestures to a spare bedroom. He left the door open and settled down on the bed facing the door, gun within reach, but within minutes he was asleep.

...NCIS…

About three hours past and Ziva and Tony were sat on the sofa playing an old game a checkers that Ducky had on his shelf. It was interrupted by one of them leaving every twenty minutes to patrol the house; as DiNozzo discovered, Ziva memorised the board every time it was her turn.

A clock somewhere chimed two bells for half midnight. Tony was just laughing at something that Ziva said when she suddenly raised a finger. He silenced immediately.

There was another creak. The staircase.

Each agent pulled their gun and made their way to the door. Ziva stepped forward first, Tony following. They turned sharply to face the stairwell.

JImmy stumbled backwards. He landed with a thud on a higher step, blinking widely.

"Palmer," hissed Tony.

Jimmy gulped. He was dressed in his thick outdoor coat, shoes in hand. There was no denying he knew he'd done this before.

Sheathing their weapons, Ziva and Tony made their way halfway up the stairs. Sitting down, both leaned against the banisters and wall respectively. Jimmy just stared at the carpet. He knew he'd been busted and somehow this felt worse than doing it to agents he didn't know.

"Going somewhere?" asked Tony, a small smile on his face. Jimmy shook his head. "Nah didn't think so." There was another pause. "Couldn't sleep?" This time Jimmy lifted his face. Tony almost winced at the look in his eyes. It was so haunted, so desolate.

"I want it to stop." He blinked slowly. "I just… I just need some air."

"At this time of night? Are you trying to make our jobs impossible?" Tony flashed another smile. "Can't let you outside, but I have several classic DVDs and Ducky actually has a DVD player linked to his TV. Who have thought?"

"Come on, Jimmy," said Ziva kindly. She helped him up and the trio headed downstairs. No-one noticed the door to Gibbs' bedroom move slightly before the lamp inside was turned off again.

Tony and Jimmy took the sofa, whilst Ziva chose a large comfy chair. Tony selected the Hunt for Red October, but set the volume low. He made the excuse that they didn't want to wake Ducky and Jimmy accepted this. However, his true intentions were later displayed by the reappearance of that small smile as he checked Jimmy half an hour later. The younger man was blinking regularly, each time his eyes remaining closed for longer and longer.

Eventually, Tony felt a pressure on his shoulder and thus he moved Jimmy to a more comfortable position, lying in his lap. There Jimmy lay for the rest of the movie and it was only when the credits began to roll that Tony noticed he was threading his hands through the curly hair as a soothing motion. He felt like a parent.

Tony looked up to Ziva who had obviously noticed herself, but all he got was a small wistful smile from her.

"I'll take the next patrols," she whispered across. "You shouldn't move him."

Tony nodded in agreement and looked down at his friend, asleep across his legs.

In an ideal world, that would've been it. The sun would have arose the next morning and Jimmy would have had a lie in, while Tony would've had a sore back. The world wasn't ideal though and when three hours later, Jimmy started shifting, only Tony's quick actions stopping him from rolling onto the floor when he awoke. Jimmy blushed at his position, but neither agent commented. Instead, Tony told Ziva to put on a Bond movie, in the mood for more Connery.

Jimmy didn't last that film either, although he got closer to the end. This time Tony wasn't trapped, instead laying a blanket across the Autopsy Gremlin when he went in search of water.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks for the patience with the up-dating. Nearing the end now.**

Just before six, Gibbs entered the room, his usual stealth proving an excellent idea. Jimmy was still asleep, so Gibbs motioned the agents outside into the corridor for a status update.

"There was no disturbances in the night, if you discount Jimmy," Ziva reported. "The only alarm were some bins rattling about an hour ago, but I believe this to be an animal taking advantage of the pre-dawn light."

"You checked it out though?" Gibbs asked. Ziva nodded sharply, as if almost insulted by the question. Gibbs smiled; this was hardly her first protection detail and probably one of the safer ones, if he was honest. However, there was no reason to let standards fall or let their guard down.

"Do you think Ducky would mind if I make some breakfast, Boss?" Tony then asked. "Only I saw some bacon and eggs. Maybe a bit of toast. I'll let him have some as well." Gibbs pinned his Senior Agent with a piercing glare.

"Give it an hour or so; Ducky was planning on taking Jimmy in late today. And remember you'll have to bring him breakfast later this week." In truth, Gibbs knew Ducky was unlikely to be fussed over some missing eggs, especially when he saw Jimmy still asleep on the sofa, but it was best to not give Tony free rein, else Ducky finds half his kitchen cooked; a hungry agent was a dangerous thing.

When Ducky came down an hour later he was actually delighted to find a cooked breakfast awaiting him, but even more delighted to see Jimmy still slumbering on his Bridgewater. Luckily, Tony had had the sense to turn of the extractor fan, so the smell shouldn't disturb the boy whose first priority right now should be rest. Nevertheless, halfway through the meal, they heard a bump in the other room. Tony and Ziva immediately went for their guns but Gibbs waved them down as Ducky stood.

"I'll just go check on him."

Sure enough, upon entering the living room, Ducky discovered Jimmy was now sitting on the floor, rubbing his arm.

"Feeling better?" Ducky asked as softly as he could. It didn't make much difference, Jimmy still jumped, but he settled quickly enough.

Yes, thank you Doctor Mallard."

Ducky made his way to the sofa and sat by Palmer's head, before continuing.

"There's food in the kitchen. Tony's whipped up breakfast." He paused. "But first I wish to discuss something."

"If it's about the other Doctors… I'll meet them."

Ducky was stunned. At first, he thought he'd misheard, as Jimmy was being very quiet, but as he ran it over in his head it was definitely what he said.

"That's… quite a turnaround from yesterday. I'm glad, don't misunderstand me, but did something bring this on?"

Another pause.

"I heard Vance last night."

"Jimmy…"

"It brought it home to me. All those people, all of you, you all care. You've been offering so much help and advice and I just keep avoiding it or ignoring it or… It seems so rude."

"Jimmy…"

"I want to be better, but I'm not trying to be. How messed up does that make me? And it's causing everyone more work and more bother and…"

"Palmer!"

This time the assistant stopped and looked up at his mentor. The stern voice was a surprise, but then again, he was rambling again and he knew he always said the wrong thing when he did that.

"Understand this," started Doctor Mallard sternly. "Was I disappointed that you were sneaking out? Yes. Was I also disappointed that you didn't tell anyone that your therapy was going badly? Of course. But I can understand why you were reluctant. Part of it is the culture of the MCRT, part of it is that your head is a little jumbled and part of it is a vicious cycle of being unable to get help because you need it. Part of it is that colleagues, especially special agents and bosses, aren't always the easiest people to discuss things with and you've been cut off from everyone else.

"However, let's move on from that. I'll make some calls and see if I can set up the appointments for tomorrow if not today. I'm not giving you time to change your mind. In the meantime, let's get you some breakfast." Jimmy smiled gratefully as Ducky helped him to his feet. "Mr Palmer, I also want you to remember one more thing. You _are_ never, _were_ never and _will_ never be a bother. Not to me. Understood?" Jimmy nodded, his smile growing wider.

...NCIS…

Ducky made the phone calls first thing, resulting in an appointment before they went in. Ziva and Tony were thus ordered home, their duty done for the time being, as Gibbs and McGee took over the detail until they entered the Yard.

It was relatively unexciting, sitting in the waiting area. When Doctor Ranagan emerged, he was rather startled to find his new patient and old friend had come in with two armed men, but a quick rundown on the current situation relaxed him somewhat. He realised, though, he wasn't being told everything and he was grateful that Ducky was taciturn enough not to reveal all; he wanted to hear it from Palmer's point of view first.

For the remaining three, the forty-five minute wait was only made more enjoyable by Ducky's stories about how he came to know Doctor Ranagan and consequently how to make a good fudge. McGee was interested enough, but Gibbs just sat back smiling, throwing in the odd comment now and again.

When the door reopened, Palmer walked out shaking Ranagan's hand firmly. There wasn't a smile on his face, but neither was there a frown. Ducky had mild hope; he could hardly expect Jimmy to be perfectly at ease after the first session.

"Doctor Mallard, after discussing things with Jimmy here I have permission to email you letting you know when his appointments are."

"You mean, so I know when I won't be having my assistant? Yes, that would be extremely helpful, if Mr Palmer agrees."

"It is… not so much that. Letting another person know you are going to do something is often a good way of making sure you do it."

"If Duck knows Palmer should have an appointment, he's aware when he's missing them," stated Gibbs.

"...Precisely."

The pause made Gibbs smell a rat though. He didn't show it but did suggest that McGee take Palmer back down to the car. McGee, sensing it wasn't really a suggestion, immediately obeyed.

"Something else?" prompted Gibbs when the coast was clear.

"Mr Palmer needs… ah… a little bit of pressure put on him. I chose social pressure though, over nagging. The more people who know he should be somewhere, the less likely it is he'll evade, if just because he knows those people would be disappointed in him."

Ducky sighed. "I don't like that being his reason to attend. I want him to do it for himself."

"And he will hopefully come to, but only once he sees improvement. Anyway, I have said enough. Everything else discussed remains confidential. Although I have also gained permission to inform you if he's not suitable for the...ah... field. Currently, I'd advise against it."

Ducky nodded. Obviously, he was hoping Palmer wasn't so bad as to warrant this, but he bowed to the professional advice. Palmer would remain at NCIS HQ for time being.

...NCIS…

All four entered NCIS just after ten, which drew some looks from some people. Harry merely nodded with approval but there were mutterings as they passed other desks. Eventually, Ducky and Jimmy bid the others adieu as they headed down to the basement.

It was dark upon entering the large room, but Ducky quickly put on lights as Palmer hung up their coats.

"There now. That's better. Now I fancy a spot of tea before we start with the work today. I hope it remains a nice paperwork day. I for one would like some time to enjoy my seat. Currently, it seems a wasted resource." Palmer smiled at that. "However, before I take in more liquids…" The Doctor headed towards the door again, the meaning clear.

"I'll put the kettle on."

"Good lad."

Autopsy now empty, Jimmy set about gathering the tea things. Two cups, teapot, teabags… milk.

This was rather cheekily kept in one of the lockers most of the time; only when there was an influx of bodies would Ducky removed it to the fridge in the breakroom two floors up, where, inevitably, it would go missing before they could use it. Then, Palmer would be sent out on a mission for more. Really, it was almost as bad as Gibbs and his coffee.

A clink behind him made Palmer swing around. He was sure he heard something, but the room remained empty.

"Doctor Mallard?" he called out to be sure. No reply.

Jimmy turned back to pulling out the drawer that containing the four pints.

Another clink.

This time, Jimmy was sure he'd heard something. He pushed the drawer back in and wandered out to the first table, scanning the room.

The first movement was the top of a back peeking out over the top of the end table. Someone was crouched behind the table.

"Hey!" cried Jimmy. "Come out. If you're avoiding work down here then…"

He trailed off as the person stood. It was a person he'd only glanced at once, but he'd seen his Navy portrait several times.

It didn't do Hickman justice.

The man was tall, six foot six at least, with broad shoulders and thick muscular upper arms. He was dressed in a thick blue shirt and ripped jeans. His hair no longer followed the Navy style and had been dyed a deeper black than the light brown he had before, but he remained clean shaven, emphasising his thick jaw and neck.

Jimmy gulped. His breathing sped up and he could feel himself shivering.

"How… How did you…?" he stuttered, backing round to the other edge of the table.

"Snuck in once, easy second time," the low voice rumbled. He took a few steps forward, getting round the table and nearing Jimmy. "So you're James Palmer? The man who spotted me, the man who cost me my career, my money, my reputation. I thought you'd be taller." He grinned sardonically.

Jimmy gulped again. The Autopsy panic button was on the other side of the room now, as was, Jimmy realised, the door. No doubt Hickman could reach the outer entrance faster than him too. The only other options were cupboards and Jimmy didn't want to corner himself like that. Not when he didn't know when help would arrive.

The man took another few strides forward and suddenly the two men were stood at opposing diagonals of a single Autopsy table. Jimmy fumbled back a step, eyes darting around.

"Do you know what I think?"

"What?" squeaked Jimmy, wishing he didn't sound so nervous and small and scared.

"I'll enjoy squeezing the life out of you."

Launching himself across the table, Jimmy narrowly missed being brought down by the travelling wall of muscle. Instead, his feet skidded on the slippery floor, throwing both Palmer and Hickman off balance. The two collapsing men brought down an Autopsy tray, scattering saws and cutters over the floor.

Palmer, the most balanced of the two, rose first, placing the Autopsy table between him and his assailant, effectively switching their position. He debated slamming the panic button, but it was still just a little too far out of reach. He needed to concentrate on the immediate danger.

Hickman got to his feet, wiping his bloodied nose on the back of his hand. 'Well,' thought Jimmy, 'At least, they'd be able to prove who murdered him.' The former Lieutenant Commander growled angrily, his eyes positively glowing with anger.

No gymnastics this time, the man swung himself around the table, as Jimmy darted away. In a weird and deadly game of cat and mouse, the two men, dodged their way through the tables, equipment flying in all directions. Cornering again, he felt his hand slice open as it met a stray knife. The pain was yet to hit him, just the wet trickling down his arm.

He could feel the other man gaining on him around every corner and knew it would be a matter of time before he was caught. He had to leave, to escape, rather than try and outrun a _marine._

A final dive for the outer door proved to be too far. He felt his coat snagged and was thrown backwards. He landed heavily on his back, something lumpy underneath him. A heavy weight then pressed down on his ribcage and he refocused his eyes to see Hickman settle onto his chest.

"You are pretty pathetic, aren't you? All flesh and bone. No muscle. No brain," Hickman smirked. He applied pressure downwards, resulting in a sickening crack. Jimmy's mind was a blur at this point, he couldn't even guess which bone that was.

A hand then grabbed at the base of his throat, squeezing. Jimmy's breathing became more laboured. His arms flailed at his sides as he felt his already overworked lungs struggle for air. The corners of his eyes began to grey a little. Darkness would surely follow.

He thought about Ducky. The older man would be the one to find his body. Jimmy didn't like to guess what impact it would have on him, but he felt as if Ducky would be fairly upset. He seemed to care, judging by his actions the last few weeks, actions Jimmy appreciated. And he'd probably be the one to tell Breena. The last thing Jimmy had said to her was it would be OK. He'd reassured her _he_ was OK. He wondered whether the others would expose her to the truth. He regretted lying. He thought that would help, but somehow, he wasn't sure it did.

Then his hand struck it. Something colder than the floor, something metal.

Still unsure what the object was, he grabbed it nonetheless and brought it round into Hickman's side as hard as he could. This was probably not very hard, but scalpels are meant for cutting into flesh anyway. As a result, Jimmy felt the blade slide in, his other hand becoming wet with blood.

Hickman drew back with a roar of pain and anger. It was a mistake. Jimmy still gripped the scalpel in a fierce grasp and the motion caused the blade to slice through the flesh as it was pulled out. The pressure relaxed, just a bit, allowing Jimmy another breath. He tried to wiggle away, but Hickman was still on top of him, pinning him to the floor.

The next second, his fisted hand was restrained against the floor and his fingers were being pulled. Hickman wretched at the knife, trying to disarm him, but Jimmy held on for dear life. It was his only weapon. Surrendering would be practically suicide.

A finger cracked angrily. The pain caused Jimmy hand to jerk round slightly, just enough for the knife to be facing upwards It was clear Hickman was attempting to break his way through Jimmy's hand. The second finger was already being bent at an awkward angle. It was unlikely that JImmy would be able to cling onto it much longer. The other man was bent over his hand now, only a struggle for purchase slowly him down. It was only a matter of time.

Time.

It struck Jimmy that the only thing he currently had any control of, to some extent, was time. He'd been trying to hold out because, well, who'd want to die sooner when they could die later. But maybe he _should_ try to speed things, just enough…

Praying to every deity out that this wasn't an extremely stupid move, like he knew it probably was, Jimmy closed his eyes and let go of the knife, giving it just a little extra push as he did.

There was a gagging sound, followed by a guggle. It sounded a like a damp balloon being popped. Then Jimmy felt liquid soaking through his shirt. That was it. He'd been stabbed.

Only…

He didn't feel like he'd been stabbed. He realised his body would try to protect him from the pain, but this was bit extreme. He could feel the wetness, but not the knife itself.

He cracked his eyes open, just in time to see Hickman stare at him, wide eyed, scalpel protruding from just below his throat. The blood was pouring down his chest onto Palmer. He began to half cough, but it was little use and Palmer watched helplessly as the man who had just been trying to kill him rolled backwards onto his legs, twitching slightly before going still.

It didn't take a medical degree or experience of crime scenes to recognise Hickman was dead. However, Jimmy knew he still needed to check the body. And tell someone. Telling someone would be good. Unfortunately, he still needed to catch his breath and his heart would do good to get below 500 bpm. Somehow, between this and the fact his chest _really_ was starting to hurt quite badly, he couldn't quite persuade his muscles to move.


	17. Chapter 17

He lay there for what could have been a while, but also could have been a few seconds. The pain was actually getting worse, his bent fingers, cut hand, various bruises and nicks all contributing.

In fact, the whirling mixture of emotions and feelings swimming around his body made him miss the swish of the Autopsy doors opening. The first thing he knew was the hurried footsteps behind him.

"JIMMY!" Ducky cried. A few seconds later, the Doctor's face came into Jimmy's eyeline. "Are you alright?"

Jimmy blinked a few times, analysing the question. Obviously, he took a little too long as Ducky started to frantically tug Hickman's body off the lower half of his assistant. Jimmy grimaced as various wounds were aggravated by the rough movement. A particularly vicious jolt pulled at his torso and he couldn't help but let out a strangled cry. Ducky appeared in his vision again, concern etched all over his features.

"Palmer! Mr Palmer!" The door swished again. More footsteps. "Jethro! Over here! We need to move this body off him. And someone call an ambulance, for heavens' sake."

The increase in movement around his head led to a weird disjointed nausea to build up in him, like being seasick, but on land. By the time two people lifted Hickman off him, with minimal bumping this time, he was fully prepared to roll over and empty his stomach. The effect required was too much though and he felt himself choke for a second time in the hour as fluids built up in his throat.

"Palmer!" Gibbs' voice made his head ring, but he at least made out the words against the background. "I asked what's hurt?"

He asked? When did he ask? That didn't matter though. He had Gibbs' attention.

"Sic'" Palmer ground out, before trying to cough.

He didn't know if Gibbs understood the word, but the actions must've been clear because he was hurriedly rolled onto his side by many hands. Just in time to empty his breakfast everywhere.

"Where's that damn ambulance?" he heard Gibbs shout. He began to curl in on himself. The jabbing pain from his ribs reminded him that that was a mistake quickly enough and he stilled himself.

The next few minutes were a blur, but he did feel the blanket laid down on top of him and its movement as Ducky began examining the external wounds. A few more minutes and a stretcher was laid down next to him. It was as he was lifted onto that that he finally succumbed to the pain and lost consciousness.

...NCIS...

Ducky stood in mild shock as he watched his assistant be carried out. His mind was going over and over the moment when he returned to find the Autopsy in chaos.

There had been knives and scalpels and saws everywhere. Even the X-ray machine was lying on its side, screen smashed. His instinct was to press the panic button and he was glad he did when he saw a hand poking out from behind an Autopsy table. Hurrying over, he had found Jimmy staring up at the ceiling, unmoving. It took Ducky a few seconds to see that assistant was still breathing, then another to see those breathes were too fast and shallow.

The man on Jimmy's legs was undoubtedly Hickman's. Ducky had seen his photo and, frankly, he was the most likely candidate. A scalpel was stuck in his esophagus and the eyes were clearly not seeing anything anymore.

"Hey. Duck." Gibbs touched his friend's arm gently, not wishing to startle the man any further. "He'll be OK."

"That's what we thought last time," said Ducky humorlessly. "That turned out perfectly, didn't it?"

Gibbs sighed. "It's better this time. He's already got help. He knows he's got help. Plus this is the end of the matter. No hidden threats looming over his head."

Ducky sighed again. He appreciated Gibbs' reassurances, but somehow seeing your young assistant being carried out unconscious from the one place he should've been safe put a damper on your faith.

"Come on, Duck. Let's see to Hickman, then…"

"No," interrupted Ducky sharply. Gibbs' shoulders slumped, like he knew what was coming next. "No, I'm going to the hospital. No-one was there for him last time and I for one am not going to let history repeat itself. No, I don't care if he doesn't wake up for five hours or five days, I am going to be there."

After all these years, Gibbs could recognise when there was no point in even having an argument with Doctor Mallard and this was one of those times.

"At least let me drive you there," he offered. Ducky opened his mouth again, but Gibbs overrode him. "Not an option, Duck."

Ducky sighed and went to grab his jacket, only to find it sprawled on the floor. That made it part of the crime scene, along with his wallet and car keys.

"It appears I have no choice. Although do tell Anthony to deliver my car keys to me as soon as he's documented them. At some point, I'll need to drive."

Gibbs smiled a half smiled and followed his old friend out, pausing only to shout a couple of orders at his agents. He briefly bumped into Vance as they left, but the Director merely nodded and made no attempt to interrupt their progress. Indeed, it sounded like he was already on the phone to Jordan, arranging for her to temp as their ME for a day or so.

...NCIS…

"Palmer really did a number on him," said McGee as he went in for a close-up of the body.

"Yeah, well he really did a number on Palmer. Although really he should've known better than to cross a gremlin. You'd think he'd never seen the movie."

"Maybe he hadn't," Ziva pointed out. "Not everyone shares your love for the golden screen."

"Silver."

"What?"

"It's silver screen. And I know that, but some films are classics. Everyone should watch them."

Ziva rolled her eyes at the very Tony-esque comment. She knew there was no point going down that street (road?) again. It was a conversation they'd had multiple times.

"Autopsy gremlin or not, do you think he'll be OK?" asked McGee, his tone as serious as it was the first time.

"Ah, he'll be fine," came a loud, rough voice. "Provided he didn't get wet." Three pairs of eyes set upon the newcomer, a floating agent sent down to help. "'Cos he's a Gremlin," he explained, as if his comment needed explaining.

The temperature of the room dropped a few degrees as several other agents froze at the near-murderous expressions the MCRT were currently sporting.

"No," said DiNozzo, gruffly.

"But you said…" the other agent started but got no further.

"No. He's not a Gremlin. He's our Autopsy Gremlin. As in not your Autopsy Gremlin. You refer to him as Mr Palmer. Or Jimmy when you get to know him. But never Gremlin."

The agent gulped as he realised he was suddenly facing a street-savvy ex-cop, a geek who could probably delete his savings leaving no trace and a former assassin who was playing with a knife; where she got that from he didn't want to know.

He gulped.

"Err… I'm sure… I mean, I hope Mr Palmer will be fine."

The three gazes didn't move off him immediately and when they did they were very slow about it. He remained frozen until he felt a slug on his arm. Looking down, he found another agent, one he'd gone to FLETC with, looking up at him.

"Don't insult Mr Palmer," she said, before nodding to the MCRT who were back working. "They're very protective of him."

...NCIS…

They ended up having to wait in the waiting room. Gibbs sat patiently by Doctor Mallard who exhibited his anxiety by being surprising silent. Other than his worried expression, only his fingers betrayed his worry, fiddling and twisting around each other. For once, Gibbs was divided in opinion about whether he should say anything or not. He was sure Palmer would be OK, but to say so would seem a little cliché.

And so he waited, watching other people enter and leave. One couple was obviously getting some bad news, judging by the tears involved. Another three twenty-somethings were anxiously chatting about something of no consequence whatsoever, but all bore some evidence of some form of accident; one had a sling, the others bruises and scratches across their faces.

Eventually, a doctor entered the waiting area and everyone turned their eyes eagerly towards her.

"James Palmer," she announced from her clipboard and most people turned away again, disappointed. Gibbs, however, didn't feel too bad as he and Ducky hurriedly made their way out to the corridor and followed her down to a room. They quickly confirmed that they were allowed to hear all the details regarding Palmer's condition, wishing to hurry her along.

She observed them a second longer before continuing. "Well, I'd like you to know that he should be OK."

"Should?" Gibbs immediately interrupted.

"Jethro, please," Ducky responded before the doctor could. The SSA closed his mouth and gestured for the doctor to continue.

"Yes, should. Unfortunately, he sustained a blow to the head at some point and it's very difficult to 100% sure there won't be any ill effects. It's made more complicated by the… oxygen deprivation. They share a few common effects, so we'll have to keep a close eye on him for a few days to make sure neither injury becomes something more serious.

"Then there's a broken rib and several bruised ones, one finger on his left hand broken and another dislocated. Beyond that, there are various cuts and bruises, the most severe of which was a slice across his right palm. Missed his nerves, but he could do without aggravating that while it heals."

Ducky blinked a few times at the information, processing it and drawing further conclusions. Provided nothing more serious developed, Jimmy would be in good working order working order in a few weeks. The rib would take the longest, requiring about 6 weeks.

"Also," said the doctor, breaking Ducky's thoughts. "I understand that Mr Palmer was attacked. It appears that it was rather brutal and I thus recommend he seek help recovering from this."

"Don't worry, Doc," replied Gibbs. "He's already got someone. We see him now?"

"OK. Just as a warning, we've linked him up to some IVs and monitors. They're just precautions; we need to be careful, especially with his diabetes. So, he'll look bad, but…"

"My dear," interrupted Ducky. "I deal with murder victims for a living. So long as he looks better than the worst of them, I'll cope."

She smiled, although both men noted she was suddenly, albeit understandably, a tad uneasy at his comments. "Well, also be warned that unlike your patients, he may suffer from headaches, dizziness and a shorter attention span than usual. Hopefully, the effects won't last."

She then opened the door to let them it.

In spite of his words, Ducky was still a little taken aback at seeing Jimmy in a bed, two IVs in his arm and his blood pressure and blood sugar being displayed on a screen close by. His skin was pale, so much so that his dark eyelashes stood out dramatically against his half-lidded eyes.

"Do'tor Mallard," he slurred, blinking at his visitors.

"Jimmy."

"'m feeling… feeling… I saw so many people here and… Agen' Gibbs?"

Ducky smiled in spite of himself and the situation before heading over to the chair which was positioned by the head of the bed. Sitting down was a relief; he might not have done much today, but just seeing Jimmy OK in that hospital relaxed his body so much he couldn't find it in him to remain standing.

"Yes, Jimmy. I take it you're feeling a little fuzzy?"

"Mmm hmm," replied Jimmy, in what almost couldn't be considered a reply.

"Painkillers, Duck?" questioned Gibbs, the non-medical professional exhibiting a little more concern.

"I doubt it. Not with the head injury, not so soon. No, I suspect tiredness and that attention span we were warned about."

Gibbs looked over to Jimmy and sure enough, the Autopsy assistant had already lost interest in his visitors and was watching someone be pushed past the window of his room. He went over and pulled up a chair on the other side of the younger man's bed. The movement caught Jimmy's attention again and he refocused on Gibbs.

"Agen' Gibbs. Hickman was in Autopsy," he eased out.

"I know, Palmer. But you got him."

"I go' 'im," Jimmy nodded, seeming to be satisfied by that version of events. It, at least, covered all the basics.

"First Suskavcevic, then Hickman. You going after my job, Palmer?" Gibbs teased.

The effect was lost though. Palmer was now more intrigued by a piece of fluff on his duvet. Gibbs sighed softly, though a small smile remained on his face as he glanced across at Ducky, whose grin was getting wider, albeit with a slight sadness in his eyes.

"Maybe you should go back to NCIS, Jethro? I doubt Mr Palmer is going to be able to give a coherent statement for a while; in fact, I doubt a coherent conversation is on the cards. I daresay more is happening back at Headquarters."

Gibbs didn't respond verbally, but he settled himself further into his seat before looking at Ducky pointedly. Ducky just smirked at this and settled back into his seat deeper, just as Palmer refocused his attention on him.

...NCIS…

The next morning, Jimmy awoke with an eerie feeling he was being watched. Forcing his eyes open further, he could just about make out a figure sitting in the chair next to him. He blinked a few more times before realising that his glasses were no longer on his face.

The figure stood, moved a little and then came towards Jimmy's face. It was only when his glasses were properly settled on his nose that his fiancé finally came into focus.

Jimmy gulped as Breena sat back down and folded her arms, an expression on her face that indicated that Jimmy was in deep trouble.

"So. I take it the man you described as 'very unlikely to come after you' came after you."

"It… seems that way," admitted Jimmy, wondering where this was going.

"And there was a 'small incident' involving a man who had a grudge against NCIS and the CIA."

"Err…"

"See, I had an interesting chat with Doctor Mallard. He mentioned you'd been kidnapped and worse and then he said no-one at NCIS was under the impression Hickman would simply disappear as you assured me. Jimmy…"

"I didn't want you to worry. I'm not an agent. It's not like these are frequent events."

"But they are events! They are part of your life and that makes them part of mine! I've been working at my cousin Daniel's funeral home thinking it was just something blown out of proportion. Now I realise there really was a danger. And my last words to you would've been 'don't forget to wear sunscreen if it gets hotter.'"

"Sorry… I guess I just thought… I don't know. I guess I just felt I didn't want to drag you into my mess."

"Oh, Jimmy. You're my fiancé. You don't have to drag me into anything. I'd have walked in holding your hand. Happily."

Palmer didn't have a response to this. Instead, he just smiled sleepily at her, trying to convey all the love he felt at that moment through his rapidly closing eyes. He felt Breena take his hand gently and he gave a squeeze back before he settled back into sleep.

...NCIS…

The next few days were a blur. Jimmy was eventually released from hospital, but found this didn't give him as much freedom as he thought it would. Instead, he was put up in Ducky's spare room where it felt like he was held prisoner. Certainly, the looks he got from Breena when he made his way down the stairs on his own made him feel like venturing out alone would result in solitary.

Not that he could complain really. Ducky and Breena were taking good care of him. Doctor Mallard made sure he met with Doctor Ranagan as required, while Breena provided food, cut up so he could manage with one hand.

She also came with photos of new apartments; well, they were thinking of getting somewhere together anyway and this seemed like as good an opportunity as ever. Soon, they'd settled on a comfortable flat in the same neighbourhood as before, which was handy for their work, and a extra bedroom. Breena smiled shyly about that and Jimmy was perfectly happy to go along with it. About a week after he was released, Breena came back with pictures of the new place, all set out.

"What…?" Jimmy said when she showed him, realising he'd moved into the place already, albeit not in person.

"The others helped. So much of your stuff had to be replaced anyway and I know it won't be as you want it perfectly…"

"No, no," he argued immediately. "It looks perfect."

"Good. As soon as you're well enough, we'll get you moved in." He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it. "Currently, you're not and I feel happier knowing Ducky is around."

He just nodded. Anything to make her happier.

The MCRT also came around as and when they could. Gibbs took his statement, but given the security cameras showed everything that happened far more reliably than Palmer could remember them, it was a mere formality.

Even Vance dropped in once. This was unexpected, but soon he realised the rumours around NCIS were still floating around and Vance was ensuring that no-one, not Jimmy, not Julie, not Breena nor Ducky could possibly complain. As he said, something had gone wrong before and it was his job to make sure it didn't happen again.

With all the support, Jimmy thus felt he owed it to them to take this next step.

He was stood in the bathroom, looking at the shower.

He wanted to get this challenge over with before he moved into his new house. He didn't want to taint the fresh start it would give him with this final fear. No, that new flat should be filled with happy memories and all thoughts of Cobb should be left behind.

He forced himself to stare at the pipework. He shivered. Previously, he'd ignored that section every time he went in to get washed, but it couldn't last. He had no illusion that part of the problem he still felt a layer of grime clinging to him from the disused tower block. It was like Cobb's hand was still imprinted on him. He needed to wash it off and this would be the final step of that.

He could vaguely hear Ducky pottering around in the kitchen, with no clue what his assistant was about to attempt. Equally, Breena was out, back to her usual workplace; if this went wrong, he didn't want her to see him.

Tentatively, he undressed, got into the other end of the bathtub, reached out and switched the shower on. The water gushed out, a small cloudburst indoors.

'That's it', he thought. 'It's just rain. It's just rain. It's just rain.'

He repeated this over and over to himself as he edged towards the flow. It was as the first spots fell onto him that something in his body settled down.

It was different. The water was warm. It was scattered, not a single harsh spray. He could see. He could get out anything he wanted. He could turn his mouth away and take a breathe anytime he wanted. He started to smile and some small piece of ice within him finally, finally melted.

...NCIS…

Ducky took the kettle off the stand as it came up to the boil. He was enjoying a moment of peace; he'd not had this many visitors popping in and out in a long time and while he was a sociable man, some time to himself was appreciated. He was also not used to having a young couple basically living with him, though he wouldn't wish them to leave. Not before they were ready.

It was as he settled down in his chair he realised what was wrong. The background noise had previously washed over him rather, but then he realised that if Breena was out, it could only mean…

Tea forgotten, he rushed upstairs with a speed many would be surprised at. Halting outside the door, he firmly rapped on the wood.

"Jimmy! Is everything alright in there?"

There was a pause, just for a few seconds, but enough to make Ducky begin to wonder whether he could, by himself, knock the door down.

"Yes, Doctor. I think… I think everything's fine."

Relief washed over Ducky and he breathed out, heart still pumping. Jimmy was fine.

Nevertheless, he returned a few minutes later with his tea and a chair, ready in case his assistant needed him. It was just as well as only ten minutes later, a voice floated out.

"Doctor Mallard. Erm… could you get a towel?"

Ducky smiled. Yes, that sounded like his Jimmy Palmer.

 _The End._

 **Well, this is it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited, followed etc. etc. :-) So encouraging when starting in a new fandom.  
**


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